Cycles of Arda
by Star-Of-Radiance
Summary: Birth. Life. Learning. Love. Death. I've been reborn and lived in various worlds (fictional in my first life) and am now an elfling- again! Now I'm in Valinor, next stop: Middle-Earth, as the grandchild of a family doomed to be kinslayers- unless I do something about it. I'll need the Ainur's help, all the knowledge and magic from my previous lives to save Eä- and the Fëanorians.
1. Chapter 1

**This is an AU with OC/SI character, that is loosely based on my _own_ OC from Shieldmaiden- but what if she was someone who read the books, who knows what's going to happen? Who decided she can prevent it all- save her own family, her peoples- everyone?**

 **NO FLAMES PLEASE. I WOULDN'T DO IT TO ANYONE ELSE'S WORK SO DON'T EXPECT ME TO TOLERATE THAT SORT OF THING.**

 **Disclaimer : I don't own J.R.R Tolkien's Silmarillion, Lord of the Rings, Hobbit or any of his other works. Or any other author's works.**

* * *

The first thing I remember was darkness.

Darkness and warmth. It wasn't a bad darkness, it was one that I'd gotten used to before, many times.

Time and again, I was born, I lived, I learned and loved, and I died. My first life was the remarkably unremarkable one. I was a human girl who loved to read. I got hit by a speeding truck, the end.

And then I realised I was a baby again. Born into a whole new _fictional_ world.

Honestly, my life in _A Song of Ice and Fire_ was something, alright. At least I was thankful I didn't end up living in the War of the Five Kings. Or the Dance of the Dragons. But I did end up being reborn as a Dornish princess when the Daeron, aka the Young Dragon invaded Dorne. I really enjoyed life living as a Dornishwoman- and a princess no less. I was glad to have been born in Dorne where being female didn't mean you were a second-hand-citizen, even within your own family, and being able to fight. I lost the resistance, against the Targaryens, and to my shock, was asked for in marriage to King Daeron Targaryen.

Big surprise. I wasn't the oldest Martell sister, but to my even bigger surprise, I ended up falling in love with him. And then we were killed- by poisonous arrows. End of that life. The next time I woke up, I was back in England- only this time my family wore robes, carried wands, and whispered in hushed voices about the rise of evil.

I went to Hogwarts which was the highlight of that life. I was sorted into Ravenclaw and asides from my schooling and grades, Quidditch games and family, I had nothing else to live for. I died when Fenrir Greyback and Bellatrix Lestrange ended up in the Battle of Hogwarts.

I was depressed. Sad and miserable to leave my previous families behind, and the third broke me no less. I mourned the death of Daeron, the only man I had ever loved in the three lives. The fourth life I was in Alagaësia and I was an elf. And Galbatorix killed me. Sad, sorry sob-story.

I failed. I failed all the ones I loved, and I lost them all. Was there any reason for me _not_ to be broken?

And I was growing sick of it all. Musing over my mistakes and the things I could have done to make it all so better, until I felt that tight, squeezing sensation that signalled I was ready to come out.

And to my surprise, everything was clear again.

More than clear. It was just as clear as the time I'd been born in my last life. Everything was so sharp. So bright. So defined.

I was so stunned, because only when I was born an elf was everything this defined. Was I an elf again? Or God forbid, something else? Not a vampire surely? Or a vampire hybrid from Twilight.

Then a musical voice interrupted my musing: _"Amatúlië,"_ A voice shining, shaking with emotion and unshed tears. _"Melda yelya."_ And my eyes snapped around.

Coming face to face with someone who was infinitely more beautiful than anyone I had ever seen in my entire life. Not even the Targaryens, the Martells and the elves of Alagaësia looked as beautiful as this. But I did think that she must have had Targaryen blood because how could she have had silver hair and violet eyes?

She was the most breathtakingly beautiful and heartbreakingly lovely woman I had ever seen. Her hair was purest, finest, woven silver, polished to a bright shine, framing her heart-shaped face with the finest, most delicate, beautiful features, dainty as could be: high, incredibly delicate and finely-carved cheekbones and a finely-cut jawline as well as an exquisitely-dainty, small, upturned nose.

But she had the same colouring as a Targaryen, though Daeron and his siblings' hair was not as clear, bright and vividly lustrous a silver as hers. Her almond eyes were not something commonly found in Westeros either, framed with the thickest, glossiest, blackest lashes. As I recalled, in the books, Daenerys mentioned that only the Dothraki and the Lhazareen had almond-shaped eyes. So I wasn't in Westeros.

Then I noticed that she looked slightly weary, though her eyes were glowing brighter with joy, immeasurable love and unshed tears. My new mother.

Now the tears were really spilling down her cheeks. Whoever delivered me passed me to her, and she took me, almost greedily, to her arms, and clasped me tightly, pressing her rosebud lips against my face. I must have been her first child for her to illicit such a reaction. Like I was a miracle. Or maybe I was the result of a long and complicated birth.

Her shining eyes glanced upwards, and my eyes fell on a _tall_ man.

He was really tall and well-built. His face bore the most regal majesty and handsomeness that I never saw, even in a Targaryen king like Daeron. or Evandar. A magnificent, impressive creature with the most _intriguing_ hair. If my new mother had hair or purest, woven silver, this man had hair the colour of the most burnished copper streaked with pure gold, beautiful high cheekbones, chiselled lips, a sculpted, straight nose and jaw. Eyes the same colour as the richest, greenest emeralds.

And pointed ears.

S***. He was an elf.

His grin was broad, but I noticed his eyes were slightly damp as well- somehow- _surely,_ this was strange, uncharacteristic of such a noble, impressive elf.

He was crying. With tears of heartbreaking joy. I heaved an internal sigh. _So this is my father._

And I was an elf- again! Somehow, I knew I wasn't in Alagaësia anymore.

So let me guess...

"She's beautiful, my love," he gazed mesmerised, silently weeping with emotion. "So beautiful."

My new mother glowed, looking up at him. She kissed him, and he enfolded his arms around us both.

Honestly, why should I bother? Something was going to happen anyway. I was going to be killed again, and lose my new family just as I had lost my previous family.

But something told me... That I should bond. Something irresistible. Something like, quite irritatingly, the imprinting of ducklings and baby birds, when they looked at their mother and father. It was too late. I was lost. I was lost and I had no hope. I was going to lose myself in this life.

Or maybe... It didn't have to be that way.

"What shall we call her?" My new mother whispered. The realisation hit me- I could understand them. I could understand Quenya.

But _how?_ I didn't know. It _shocked_ me. But then I remembered, I had also understood the Ancient Language of Alagaësia from day one.

So that meant... Was Quenya and maybe even the other elvish languages like the Ancient Language, in the fact that everyone had a True Name? Did the animals understand them? The trees, did they respond to them the way they did to the elves of Alagaësia when they sang to them to make them grow?

Another thing: Quenya. I recognised it. I was in Middle-Earth. Or Arda.

"I think... Based on what the Valar have told me, and the gift and promise that Eru Ilúvatar made, I shall call her... Eruvandë. Promise of Eru."

My mother glowed. "And that she is. Ilúvatar has fulfilled His promise." She wiped away a tear.

"What shall you call her?" My father asked softly, kissing my brow and stroking my head carefully.

"Something in Lindalambë," my mother stated. I frowned. Lindalambë. _Was that..._

"It will please your grandfather and your people, to remind them that she is also Teler, as well as one of the Ñoldor, a member of the Houses of Olwë and Finwë."

Oh snap. Oh _damn._ Finwë. Olwë. I should have seen it coming. The red-hair, the eyes richer and greener than emeralds... My new father...

And he was _tall._ No doubt about that. This could only mean I was not in Middle-Earth as I assumed before and my father was in fact, the eldest son of Fëanor, or Fëanáro.

"What did you see?" The elf that I could just bet was Maitimo or Maedhros asked quietly. "When you carried her? What did you sense in your dreams?"

What? Wait... They could sense these things, couldn't they? Elven mothers...

"She will be a great light amidst the darkness, a saving hope for many. To countless peoples, she will be their only chance to be saved, to remain in the light."

Maitimo's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"She will lead countless, despairing peoples through the darkness," Mother continued on as if in a daze. "She will guide them, save them, teach them, protect and nurture them. She will be their greatest hope."

And here I was too shocked for anything. Was my mother... Planning a destiny for me already?

Or did someone else?

"Her name is Estela," she murmured. "Hope."

And here I thought I was going to get an unpronounceable mother-name. It sounded similar to _Estel,_ which was hope in Sindarin because the Sindar came from the Teleri.

So my mother must have been a Telerin princess. Olwë's granddaughter, from the sounds of it.

"You have seen it?" Maitimo asked in a deadly-silent voice, until someone knocked on the door.

I nearly jumped- if I could. I forgot, new-born babies, even elves, couldn't do that.

"My lord, my lady." An elf maiden opened the door. She was grinning. "The king and the high prince and the rest of the royal family is here."

 _And here. We. Go._

And the door flew open and the House of Finwë came trampling in like copper, dark and blond stallions in all their mighty glory.

* * *

To say that I knew what to expect now that I was in my second life as an elf, would be a lie.

My life in Ellesméra was not unpleasant. In fact, I rather enjoyed it. I had a feeling I would enjoy it in Valinor- only this time, I knew what to expect, and it was far worse than the Fall of the Riders and Dragons.

However, before we get to that, let me first just say, that I was even better coordinated than in my previous life.

I could move my limbs and sit up straight, hold my head up fairly early as an elf-child in Alagaësia but in Arda, I could do it even easier. I knew from what I read about Tolkien's elves that I would be able to walk, run, talk, even sing and dance before I reached my first _begetting_ day. And that I would celebrate my coming of age at fifty years, though full maturity came somewhere between their fiftieth and one-hundredth year. I was probably going to be taller than any elf in Alagaësia and any human in either world as well, if my father's height- and reports about Galadriel's- was any indication. Elves grew quicker physically in Alagaësia.

Another difference: elves in Eä _did_ practice marriage. They didn't just take mates depending on how long they wanted to, they got married. And they married and fell in love only once in their lives, which was a good thing because being immortal... Well...

But I did fall in love. Once. Many lives ago, and worlds away. And I what if the same thing happened again, only this time on a more permanent basis?

Leaving that aside, Finwë, my great-grandfather, was the only elf that married more than once- hence the scandal and the debate on whether or not that should have happened. There were people that may not have accepted his second marriage at all.

And they weren't always vegetarian. In Valinor, they certainly weren't. Food was plenty here.

I had to roll my eyes at this. This was sounding less and less like something from the Middle Ages and more like...

Well, it _is_ fantasy.

As I had arrived in an earlier stage of the elves' timeline, children hadn't gotten so scarce for them. I knew that an elf-child in Arda hadn't been born since somewhere between five-hundred to a thousand years. In Ellesméra and Alagaësia in general, children were still rare, but there were two living in the capital during the time of Eragon Shadeslayer.

And it would explain how Fëanáro and Nerdanel managed to have so many children- the greatest number for any elf in either world.

And I was shocked to realise that Celebrimbor or Telperinquar and I weren't the only grandchildren of Fëanáro- and Nolofinwë and Arafinwë.

They had plenty of those.

The sons of Fëanáro- except for Tyelcormo and the twins had all married by then. Even Curufinwë and his was only recently, and his wife had also recently given birth a few months before my own birth. Which brought in mind Celebrimbor.

Or Telperinquar.

At this point, I realised I was going to have to call them by their Quenya names not their Sindarinized ones.

But what was my mother's name? Eärélen. A strange name, but it meant Sea-Star or Star of the Sea in Lindalambë. And somehow, my mind, coincidentally _of course,_ connected it with Shiera Seastar of Westeros, one of Aegon the Unworthy's Great Bastards (not that she had been born by the time I arrived). She had an impressive waterfall of silver hair and a heart-shaped face too.

What did I look like? Did I inherit my mother's looks? As much as I would love to say I inherited the glorious pure silver tresses and deep, luminous violet eyes, I took after my father in this regard.

My features were a mixture of both parents. How did they blend together so perfectly? I don't know. But put me next to my father, and you would not be able to deny the spitting resemblance, even without the hair and the eyes. Put me beside my mother and the striking similarity would no doubt hit you like Lauerlin's light. I inherited her heart-shaped face and the almond shape of her eyes and her lashes and delicate, fine brows. My bone structure and features were a breathtaking mix of the two of them. But my hair and eye colour came from my father.

I inherited Maitimo's famous copper locks which in turn came from Nerdanel. It was, as I mentioned, the colour of purest, burnished copper, with streaks of spun gold, likely also from the same person who gave Tyelcormo his famous fair hair colour too. Only mine was also streaked with my mother's silver. Silver, gold and copper, even I had to be impressed. My mouth was my mother's though, and my neck and hands, that was certain.

Asides from my parents, my looks brought about the disturbing realisation of my heritage. I was Fëanáro's grandchild. And the great-grandchild of Finwë, Míriel Þerindë and Olwë as well as the grandniece of Elu Thingol and Melian. I was the niece of the other six sons of Fëanáro, the daughter of the eldest son, and the daughter of a Telerin princess.

What a tragic irony.

I didn't know how long it would be- I didn't have the date yet, but someday, my father, my uncles and my grandfather were going to turn against my mother's people and slaughter them in Alqualondë.

How in the Valars' name could my _father_ be such a person?

He was the most wonderful, caring father I had ever had. So gentle, warm, tender with me. He was always there for me. He was there when I needed a nappy change (unfortunately I have to admit that- baby elves needed diaper changes), he was there when I needed to bathe, when I fell, when I stood up, when I walked and talked for the first time. He was always the warmest and most loving father of all.

And it would make the loss even more unbearable.

I had no idea that the sons of Fëanáro apart from Curufinwë were even married. But Macalaurë had married a Telerin maiden too, Carnistir, a Ñoldorin maiden, Curufinwë did as well, and Tyelcormo was currently interested in a Vanyarin maiden. Not sure who that was, but hopefully, just hopefully...

Like I said, I had no idea that the sons of Fëanáro were even married or in the very least romantically involved in any way. After all, didn't Tyelcormo lose his brains over Lúthien? And on the whole, made things a whole lot worse for her and her family? Heck, wasn't it Tyelcormo, Carnistir and Curufinwë's servants that tied up Eluréd and Elurín deep in Nan Elmoth so they perished, despite Maitimo- my father- trying to find them? What if I could prevent that? What if I could prevent all of it?

On the other hand, what if, accidentally, I made things worse?

I had to plan this carefully.

On the bright side of things I was born in Valinor. Home of the Valar and the Maiar. But an icy chill swept through me when I realised that at this point, _Sauron_ might have been here. Only then he was known as Mairon the Admirable, a Maia of Aulë the Smith. A sizeable number of Maiar were seduced by the dark promises of Morgoth and I had to be extra careful. It was suspected that Ungoliant, the mother of the giant spiders, was one of those maiar. And Thuringwethil, Morgoth's vampire herald- possibly the first vampire. And Draugluin, the first werewolf. And the Balrogs. They were all maiar.

And only I knew of the threat.

At this point, baby Estela slumped over backwards onto the grass and let out a _huff._ How the heck was I supposed to save my entire family and Ñoldorin people from annihilating each other and countless innocents, from being subject to the Doom of Mandos? Yup, this was all on a baby's shoulders.

Or the Telerin people from being slaughtered in Alqualondë? Or the Sindar of Doriath? The House of Dior and Elu Thingol (the former not being the fashion brand from Paris)? Menegroth?

I had knowledge but that came with gaps. I didn't know what would happen to my mother, the sweetest, gentlest, caring and tender mother in the whole universe (or all the others- I still loved my parents from my third life, adored them to bits). I didn't know how to prevent Gil-galad/Ereinion from dying or even whose son he was- Artaresto's or Findekáno Nolofinwion's? And Írissë? How was I supposed to prevent her from meeting Eöl and Maeglin from existing to develop the hots for his cousin and destroying Gondolin?

Impossible.

"And here," my eyes opened at the sound of the voice. "The home of my eldest son, my firstborn Nelyafinwë."

"Magnificent." Another voice breathed. I recognised the first as my grandfather Fëanáro's. "You must be proud, Fëanáro, you've taught your sons well."

I could hear him chuckling. Was it any wonder? I mused. The most brilliant of the Ñoldor and the father of mighty, handsome and gifted sons- seven of them, the largest amount for any of the elves, even in these days.

My eyes peered at the figures at the gate and I slowly nudged myself up. I still hadn't mastered that, finding it easier to roll over and grab something to pull myself up. But I managed to end up in a sitting position, so that wasn't too bad.

I silently rolled behind some bushes. As much as I trusted my grandfather (he must have gone mad around the time Morgoth was released), I didn't know this other person.

The house itself was not a house if you could call it that. It dwarfed Malfoy Manor in my third life, and looked more beautiful than Sunspear and the Red Keep in my second. Like in Alagaësia, elven strength, talents and inventions (though I'm not sure about the magic just yet), granted them as much leisure time as they possibly needed. Plus, they didn't need to be fed as often as humans or dwarves and certainly not Hobbits. It was surrounded by ten acres of flowers of all kinds, arbours of roses in red, coral, pink, yellow, white and even blue and purple (I never knew Winter Roses existed outside of Westeros), gardenias, wisteria, honeysuckle, creeping vines and ivy. And flowers that didn't exist in any other world which I hadn't learnt the name yet.

The flowers were all arranged in ornately-shaped beds, like mazes, and guarded by very few of my grandmother's sculptures. Ammë wasn't the fussy type. Winding footpaths, led to the fruit orchard where pear, apple and even orange, mango, cinnamon and other trees grew. Seriously, how do elves in Middle-Earth- who didn't display the same sort of magic as their counterparts in Alagaësia did- manage to grow all those? The spice gardens were neatly laid out as well, on the other side of the flower gardens, full of ginger, garlic, peppers, mint, watercress and more. Near it was the herb garden full of things some of which were used for cooking and the rest used for healing. A series of pools and fountains interconnected with the music of miniature waterfalls, protected by shrubs. The waters fed the gardens.

I was curious when I saw all this. I knew my mother was a Telerin by birth. I can imagine she needed an outlet for all that restless, pent-up energy exuded just by living near Tirion and the rest of the Ñoldorin cities. She also needed a hobby. Atar and Amil were devoted to one another, and adored each other but my father was the first son of the high prince and eldest grandson of the king. He was also the most remarkably brilliant lore-master, he helped his father with countless projects including architecture, sculpture and smithing- which were really hobbies more than anything- he tutored some of his nephews, youngest brothers and his cousin's children. He was also an athlete, and for years on end neither of them had any children.

I learnt that early on.

So Ammë had to integrate herself with Ñoldorin culture, didn't she? Not just find an outlet for all that energy, and suppress her emotions over her childlessness? Not that her adoration of gardening had faded with my arrival.

She would place me in a sling around her so that she could carry me while doing her work, and watch over me at all times. As I grew older and showed no interest in destroying the plants, she placed me on a soft blanket or a wicker basket so she could keep watching me, only stopping to feed and change me.

So Amil had created a masterpiece with her garden and Atar did the same with the house which shamed Malfoy Manor in comparison. My grandfather opened the gates and beamed in pride.

"They've worked together to create this wonderful home. It's a miracle that they've finally been able to bring a little one to fill these halls and gardens with life and joy, after all this time."

I peered through the shrub.

"Yes, I've heard. All of Valinor rejoices and congratulates them still." The stranger was a dark-haired Ñoldo. "May she be forever blessed with happiness."

"Násië." My grandfather breathed.

"But not all your sons are married." Stranger said.

Fëanáro frowned. "It takes some time. Maitimo didn't appear lucky in love until he met his wife. I had almost given up hope."

He would have said more, but I decided to roll out of the bushes, gazing up with gooey baby eyes and sucking my fist.

"Little One!" Fëanáro crowed.

 _"Haru!"_ I squeaked, breaking out in a big, adorable baby smile and lifting my arms up.

Fëanáro chortled with joy as he lifted me up, kissing me on my soft cheek. "Look at you! You've doubled in height the last time I saw you! Soon you'll be taller than Atar!" I giggled.

"And here, Alacion." He announced. "Is my granddaughter Eruvandë Estela." I giggled waving my chubby baby hands around.

A little over the top? Maybe, but I needed to charm everyone to get them on my side. Maybe I could stop Morgoth and Sauron this way.

The elf, Alacion grinned.

"She's beautiful," he murmured. "Hello there, princess."

"Fëanáro?" Amil came out from behind the garden. She blinked. She had her own gardeners but most of the time, she worked herself.

"Eärélen Telpelinda," Haru- Quenya for grandfather- grinned. "My apologies for interrupting, I just thought of showing Alacion your home and gardens. And my granddaughter of course!" He chuckled. "They are beautiful, are they not?"

Alacion chortled. "Which one?"

Amil smiled. "Perhaps you would like to come inside?" She invited. "Maitimo is in his study. Guests are always welcome here, and family."

Always so gracious, my sweet Ammë.

"We would be more than happy to, if you would Alacion." He grinned and inclined his head. "It would be my honour, fair princess." Alacion said politely.

"Excellent." Amil beamed. "I should probably call Maitimo. He's still quite busy."

But as luck would have had it, Atar stuck his head out of a window. "Atar!" He greeted. "And Alacion. What brings you to Tirion, or at least, outside?" He reappeared outside.

So this stranger elf was not from Tirion. "I had some business to do with an elf in Tirion," he shrugged. "When will you come to Formenos? Introduce the new little bundle of joy there?"

"Soon enough," Atar promised, taking me from Haru. "But first, we must take this little one to Alqualondë! To meet our kin."

Our kin! My eyes went big. Yes! Olwë and the Teleri. The Ñoldor didn't have a bad relationship at all prior to the Kinslaying at Alqualondë. Maybe if I could get them to believe...

Believe what? I was a baby. And Morgoth being released and Sauron seemed to far-fetched for anyone's imagination unless you've read the books. And how would I explain all this knowledge? That my grandfather and his sons would become kinslayers and exiles? It sounded insidious to say the least.

"I'm sorry I was unable to attend the Essecarmë." Alacion said, regretfully. "But my son as you've heard, did a silly little stunt with his horse involving a hill. He was incapacitated for two weeks. But I heard it was a grand affair."

"It was," Atar said, shifting me. "Even King Ingwë attended himself."

I blinked. Wait. So the tall, majestic and regal-looking elf with the gold hair was...

"Come." Atto clapped his hand on Alacion's shoulder. "Let's go inside. We can prepare a feast just for you. Did Alimien, Canyaner and Alassë come as well?"

"She is staying with our kin-" I lost track of the conversation.

If I could go to Alqualondë and even more firmly establish the relationship between the Ñoldor and Teleri... Maybe, just maybe- and my heart started to race excitedly at this- the First Kinslaying could be prevented! The Teleri and Sindar would be safe from slaughter and the Ñoldor and House of Fëanáro would be saved from the Doom!

We could easily take down Morgoth, I thought really enthusiastic. I wasn't stupid. I knew we would still need the help of the Valar but at least the elves weren't slaughtering each other for the sake of three stones, no matter how pretty.

I cheered up at the thought. I had my list of skills and knowledge, from living in Dorne, and then Hogwarts and later Ellesméra. Now I was going to add to the list of skills. I was the granddaughter of the most skilled and brilliant elf ever to have been born. Fëanáro created not only the Silmarils, but the Tengwar system of writing, the Palantíri which could see the past, the present and the future as well as communicate with ones' minds over a distance- something which Gandalf said that not even Sauron and Saruman could do. And Míriel Þerindë was my great-grandmother. Although she wasn't the most favourable character to me, even I've read what Tolkien said about her:

 _'If but one fragment of the broideries of Míriel were seen in Middle-earth, it would be held dearer than a king's realm; for the richness of their devices and the fire of their colours were as manifold and bright as the wealth of leaf and flower and wing in the fields of Yavanna.'_

Whoa, where did that come from? Did I really memorise the text from lifetimes ago?

It would appear so, but something did not seem right.

Something was definitely up.

* * *

Quenya words:

Amil: Mother.

Atar: Father

Atto: Daddy

Ammë: Mummy

Haru: Grandfather.

Násië: Amen.

Quenya and Sindarinized Names:

Nelyafinwë Maitimo: Maedhros (the Tall)

Curufinwë Fëanáro: Fëanor

Findekáno (Nolofinwion): Fingon (son of Fingolfin).

Macalaurë: Maglor (the Mighty Singer)

Tyelcormo: Celegorm (the Fair)

Carnistir: Caranthir (the Dark)

Curufinwë: Curufin (the Crafty)

Írissë: Aredhel (Ar-Feiniel)

Artaresto: Orodreth


	2. Chapter 2

**To VanyaNoldo22: Thank you. I hope I don't disappoint.**

 **Disclaimer : I don't own _Silmarillion_ , _Lord of the Rings_ , _the Hobbit_ or the other works of J.R.R Tolkien- that belongs to the master and his estate themselves. Or his characters.**

* * *

Atar was laughing.

I blinked, seated on my high chair.

 _What a picture this made,_ I thought as Atar went to open another bottle of wine.

Everything was a contrast: my parents, grandparents and their guests: Alacion, his wife Alimien, their son Canyaner and daughter Alassë had come from Formenos.

But the way Amil, Atar, Haru and Haruni talked, laughed and chatted with our guests, they seemed by far, if not completely, not like royalty and more like everyone else. Ordinary folk. They didn't look like it, and there was a regal calmness and bearing about them, but other than that, they didn't have airs and graces. Which really shocked me, as Fëanáro and his sons were known to be incredibly proud- Fëanáro had defied the Valar in the Silmarillion, but this is the complete and total opposite of everything I had read and imagined!

if it was really Fëanáro and his sons that were involved in the kinslayings and the War against Morgoth. Because I had grown, quite a lot, to doubt the books' plotline.

And yet how could it _not_ be? How else did Fëanáro managed to get so many people to follow him- not just his sons. I'm sure they all wanted to avenge Finwë, but why did they follow him If they didn't love him? But there were other contrasts to prove the stories.

The house was built by my parents- surprise, surprise, but it was something that elves in Arda and Alagaësia have in common: they didn't buy houses, despite their obvious wealth, nor did they employ others to build it for them.

The table itself was a large, magnificent oblong shape, a gift from my grandparents. They had help of course. The chandeliers in the house were carved by my father, grandfather and one or two of my uncles, very painstakingly. The porcelain dishes, silverware and goldware as well as the crystal glasses were fashioned by my grandparents and father with Amil's help- as it turned out, not all her talents lay in gardening. Therefore, the vases, urns, painting frames and other ornaments were fashioned all by hand by my family, the paintings themselves and the tapestries were also done by hand. It had the breathtaking ethereal beauty of the elves, the ornate glitter so characteristic of the Ñoldor and the light, sweeping loveliness of the Teleri, unique that it represented both cultures.

It struck me then, that this was not merely a characteristic of the House of Fëanáro. When I came of age, and when I married, it was likely that I would be expected- though I would want to do it myself- raise a house of my own. As was the way of all elves, in any universe. There were a few things that brought us together in similarities (not counting our pointed ears).

At the same time, I confirmed what I already knew in my heart: it wasn't just respect and admiration that compelled people to follow Fëanáro. It was genuine love for the person he had once been.

That person was going to be lost.

"So there is something else I am eager to discuss." Alacion said abruptly. All conversation stopped.

"About the second-born, these... Men and Dwarves."

Fëanáro scoffed. "You mean these lucky ones, Alacion." He sounded sour.

Nerdanel's eyebrow arched. "Now, now Fëanáro." She chided gently. "What we have been given and gained for ourselves in Valinor, is by the grace of Ilúvatar and the Valar. Our skills, arts and crafts have flourished. We have never known hunger nor fear of the Dark Lord and his fell servants due to their chaining of him."

Which won't last forever, I assure you.

"Atar, she's right." Atar spooned some mashed potato and carrot into my mouth. "Perhaps we who have never known the Great Journey that my grandparents took, take for granted everything we have ever seen and known in Aman."

Amil shuddered. "These second-born... I can't imagine what life must be like for them. Hopefully these fell creatures will never find them- at least not until they wake. Still, I can't help but wonder... What are they like?"

I could tell a lot, if you asked me. And if I could talk properly.

"What do you mean?" Alacion asked.

"I mean, are they as we are, the Eldar? Or the Avari?" Amil pressed. She helped me take a drink of juice.

Fëanáro grunted. "Well, they're not elves that's for certain." Despite my grandmother's reasoning he was still disgruntled, I see.

"Well, no one's seen them." Alacion shrugged. "My guess is that as Eruhíni we would all have our similarities. They would not be foul like the orcs."

"Sh." Alamien instantly placed a hand on his shoulder, eyes wide at the baby- me.

Another reason to hate being an infant.

"My apologies." Alacion said sheepishly. "The fact of the matter is," Fëanáro- Haru- interrupted impatiently "That these beings, second-born as they may be, are allowed free rein over the lands of our birth. Endórë, the lands from whence we came. Should we, the Eldar, sit back and twiddle our thumbs, allowing these after-comers to wander and claim the lands as their own, to build cities and dwellings for their own kind, whereas we fade into the history of the world?"

"I thought we were the ones who write the histories," Amil said with a wry look, casting a glance at Atar.

Atar smirked. Haru inclined his head. "You are right. But Élen, we have lived in Valinor for so long, that, as you Maitimo and Nerdanel have pointed out- and rightly so- we have grown complacent and easy and take for granted the fruits of the labours of others."

"I hardly think charging to Endórë is the wisest idea though." Alimien frowned. "What of the... Fell creatures?"

Fëanáro laughed softly. "Without their master, they are cast away, listless, wandering and hunted no doubt, by our kin. What threat are they to anyone."

Eärélen- Amil- still looked disturbed. "But what of the... More terrible servants? After all, the lesser ones are just the foot-soldiers, the pawns in the game."

She was referring to dragons, balrogs and whatever else.

Fëanáro inclined his head. "You are right again. But what is life without a little risk?"

"Brave words, Fëanáro." Alimien nodded, sagely. "Still, I think with the children so young..." Her eyes wandered to me.

"Maybe when Estela is grown," Fëanáro- Haru- added quickly. "Though it might not be wise to let her go. Perhaps an expedition party must go first- I say, with all my sons almost grown and married and a great horde of grandchildren, were it not for my wife, Nerdanel and my father I would have left, to seek out and explore these lands. Do you not wish to see Cuiviénen?"

And this was where it all began. Despite the totally caring, tender and wonderful being my grandfather was. No doubt Morgoth had something to do with his transformation.

Just like the Rings of Power- including the One, though I'd say the Seven were the best example alongside the Nine. It amplified all your flaws: greed and love of treasure for the dwarves, a thirst for power, wealth and glory for humans. Humans were the most vulnerable and dwarves were susceptible to that same sickness as Thorin Oakenshield, though they were more resilient in corruption. But elves too were not immune.

"Perhaps, but it does no good to dwell on the past," Nerdanel- Haruni- said, contently. She smiled at my parents and I. "You cannot deny that in Endórë such blessings are hard to come by. I know not how they can bear it, being unable to raise their children in such safety without fear of darkness."

And the talk went on.

I shivered when no one was looking. They had no idea. They had no idea...

* * *

My days as a baby were dull to say the least, but blandly beautiful.

In Ellesméra there were no schools because there weren't that many children. Children are taught by their parents or tutors are assigned to them, or both. The education and rearing of children are infinitely too important to be left to individuals alone. 'Elflings' as humans call them, are raised by their parents and not by governments, but every individual in their society accepts some measure of responsibility for their well-being and training. The closer you are to the child's parents, the more responsibility. As a result, Findekáno, my Uncle Macalaurë, Artanis (otherwise known as Galadriel), Írissë, Findaráto and Amárië all willingly accepted the most responsibility apart from my grandparents, otherwise known as godparenting, during my Essecarmë.

I remembered some parts of the ceremony. Dressed in something similar to a Christening gown from Terra, in white , I underwent a series of ritual blessings and bathing- like a Jewish Mikvah or a Christian baptism, having my father-name, mother-name, and I became Nelyafinwiel- daughter of Nelyafinwë and announced as a member of the House of Finwë (through Fëanáro) and Olwë. Then I was presented with gifts. I tried to remember certain things about the ceremony and the welcoming feast afterwards, me dressed in another gown but in the colours of the House of Finwë- Fëanorian branch, and Olwë

Was it at Tirion? At the royal palace? Or in Alqualondë? I wasn't sure.

Amil bent down to feed a flowering plant. She put rich soil around the plant too, pruning its leaves. Sighing, she replaced her spade. "I love my garden." She murmured. Then she frowned. "I should probably water the spice gardens next," she muttered. "The herbs are already done, maybe the water-works need checking-" she trailed off.

We were in the garden- again! Amil and her gardens. She wasn't just a gardener, she was a landscape artist.

Speaking of which, I suspected that there was a cunning system of pipes that fed them with water and kept them warm during colder seasons.

"And the fruits need checking. The rest of the shrubs need watering-" she kept on going, trying to remind herself of everything.

Well, Amil definitely had a talent that could rival any born-Ñoldorin gardener and landscape artist. Last evening, they had definitely enjoyed showing the very impressed guests her work. She had fruits, vegetables, beds of flowers, shrubs and bushes (not much topiaries though- too much clutter, she thought), arbours, herbs, ordinary plants, spices and waterworks. And some of Haruni's sculptures decorated the place alongside fountains.

All this got me thinking. I knew the elves here were as advanced as the elves of Alagaësia, and as humans in my first life, if not more. But as I realised that despite the beautiful silver-voice that gave her, her mother-name Telpelinda, Amil did not know how to use magic. I suppose I could compare it with muggles and wizards from my third life: muggles having no magic, sought to advance their own society to make their lives infinitely easier. The wizards on the other hand, had an archaic culture, technology, and architecture, so why use electricity, flipping a switch to turn on the light when they simply needed to wave their hands or wands? And besides too much magic interfered with electricity. We lived immortal lives, therefore we could easily think up ingenious projects, engineering, architecture, art, literature, mathematics, you name it. At this stage my grandfather had already made the Fëanorian lamps.

So whilst being advanced in technological ways- in undoubtedly environmentally-friendly ways, the elves were still in their early days. It was clear that magic the way the Alagaësian elves had, was not present in the Eldar of Arda.

That was my third life. In my fourth, I was an elf of Ellesméra. They however, found not only a science to magic (contrary to Muggles' belief that magic and science are two different things, the former being a myth), but defined magic, or gramarye, as being the manipulation of energy. Magic-users had an innate power deep within that allowed them to use magic. Not every human, dwarf or anyone else could use it, but among the elves, it was in everyone. I knew that the fact that the elves of Alagaësia were turned immortal whereas these elves were immortal from the start, had absolutely nothing to do with it. My mother was capable of magic, I was sure. So was my father and just about everyone else.

How long before they discovered it?

Or... Should I 'discover it' for them?

The Sindar, Silvan and Laiquiendi, or Green-elves lived in _telain,_ or flets. Platforms without walls, or rails, accessible only by _hithlain_ rope ladders. They had moveable screens to cover them up, if they so wanted. They functioned as apartments, or towers, or even whole blocks of buildings with houses on top of the lofty _mellyrn_ trees. In Ellesméra and the majority of the cities in Du Weldenvarden, elves sang to the trees in the Ancient Language, using magic and giving them the strength, convincing them to grow in the shape they wanted to build their houses. Vrael's house was made out of a tree, ridged by a spiral staircase, going up to a series of globular rooms suspended by the branches. Like other houses they were open to the elements, except when it got colder in which case, elves would tug on a string and some membrane would unfold which would be used to cover the place. The air would become warmer in temperature.

The elves of Ellesméra had showers or wash-closets, with a hollow drain that enabled the waters to flow, watering the trees in which they lived (toilet contents do not go the same way). The nozzles allowed the inhabitants to wash in water of any temperature. Here, we had plumbing as well, and the water also nourished the environment. But we took baths.

Elves of Arda were living at an earlier stage now, I can confirm.

Could I help them? Usher them along? Better yet, as I know what was going to happen...

But wait. If they didn't listen to me? Why in the world would they listen to a small child? Even if it was a while before Morgoth was released, I was one elf.

This year was 13, 384 Year of the Trees. If only I knew exactly when Morgoth/Melkor was going to be released! I knew we didn't have long, sometime during the next century at least. I watched Amil garden, knowing that the peace of Valinor would soon be disturbed. It didn't make me feel better.

But what if I could do it? Get them to listen to me? I was already at an advantage. People seemed to be fawning over me- that's what they do to babies. If they all took part in raising me and/or watching me grow... Would they feel... Attached?

I had everything to lose. My family, the Houses of Finwë, Nolofinwë and Arafinwë's branches as well as Fëanáro's which just so happened to be my own. The Ñoldor and Teleri peoples of which both counted me as their own. My home in Valinor. All my family: my grandparents- one of which would remain in Valinor, the other gone mad, subject to the Doom and killed by Gothmog the Lord of Balrogs. My great-grandfather Finwë, killed by Morgoth's hand, my mother's family who would either be slain or whom I would never see again. My uncle Macalaurë who would wander aimlessly throughout Middle-Earth, Tyelcormo who would lose his sanity and soul over Lúthien, Carnistir and Curufinwë who with Tyelcormo would destroy Doriath and its innocents, including my kinsman Dior who would also kill them- Dior's two sons would perish in the forest, and their mother. Elu Thingol, the great-uncle I had yet to meet who would be antagonistic towards the sons of Fëanáro, the son of his great friend Finwë and be killed by dwarves. Findekáno, Turukáno, Írissë, Arakáno, Findaráto, Angaráto, Aikanáro, Artaresto and his daughter, Finduilas. Celebrían. Arwen later on. Telperinquar, my cousin. Ereinion Gil-Galad, Lúthien. Those who had been born and those who were going to be born. Anyone else?

Oh, yes. My father who would be captured and tortured by Morgoth and lose his hand, and one day, leap into a pit of molten rock. I don't know what was going to happen to my mother, though. I doubted she would survive the War of Wrath.

And all for what? I thought, bitterly. Three gems.

I didn't give a damn on how pretty those Silmarils were. If they were going to destroy everyone and everything I have ever loved or cared about, I would rather destroy them myself. Except that I knew that Eärendil needed at least one for his star and would go to the Valar who would stop Morgoth for good.

I couldn't stop Haru from creating the Silmarils, could I?

The Palantíri? Nope. The Tengwar and the Fëanorian lights were already made. But the Silmarils, more than anything, I wanted to destroy.

I had everything to lose. So if I could convince them...

Convince them. Gain their trust. It sounded deceitful, but it was their only way.

I needed the help of the Valar. I couldn't do this on my own. No one would believe me. Even worse, I was now a baby, though I wouldn't remain one forever, a Fëanárian descendant myself, I was going to be on the hit-list for Morgoth _and_ Sauron. Especially if I made myself known by thwarting their plans. Even more, what if in trying to prevent the dreadful future from coming about, I accidentally made it worse because I _interfered?_

That's why I needed the Valar.

But what if... What if I could gain their trust and approval early on? The elves I mean? What was it that Atar said? That being the first son of Fëanáro and the eldest grandson of Finwë meant that the pressure was harder on him, the expectations?

He was already talented, Atar. And I... What did I have?

I had magic. And I had more, much, much more.

I was a healer- and a Hogwarts student- in my third life. I was a warrior in my second, a princess and a queen consort. I was a reader in my first.

I was an elf who learnt at Rhunön's forge, the best scholars' and spellcasters of Ellesméra in my fourth life. I also had a gift for singing to plants. I knew how to build houses like in Ellesméra.

There was no Ancient Language in Eä but what if there was an equivalent? Quenya? Valarin?

The Quenya words sounded incredibly ancient and yet the most beautiful. Didn't the Ñoldor teach the trees how to speak? Wasn't that what the legends said?

And after all, wasn't magic simply the art of thinking? The Ancient Language was merely guidelines, as were the verbal and non-verbal spells. Speaking the words was done simply because stray thoughts could hinder the spell.

And I was here: the great-granddaughter- and heiress of that generation- of the Kings of the Ñoldor and the Teleri. The granddaughter of the most skilled and brilliant elf in Eä whose skill Sauron and Morgoth could only envy. And a sculptress so talented that people would mistake her creations as being living flesh and blood creatures.

And I was the descendant of Míriel Þerindë. As much as I disapproved of her- and was especially outraged about the fact that 1) she refused to return despite her rest and respite in Mandos and Lórien, to her son and husband, and 2) returning to life only _after_ Finwë and Fëanáro and her grandsons had died or been doomed- she was the most skilled weaver.

And Elrond had been raised by my father and uncle. Elros too. Elrond was a great healer. What if... What if someone had taught him?

Someone like me?

I had been a weaver, embroidering, weaving and spinning fabric for Evandar and Islanzadí as well as singing to plants. I had learnt from Rhunön too. I'd built houses in Alagaësia, the elven way. I could do it here. I could establish a firm relationship, not just with all the kindred of the elves, but the dwarves and humans too.

* * *

"Estela?" Amil cooed. I blinked, wearily. I was lying on the soft cloth. When did I fall asleep?

"Come, _melda yeldë."_ Amil picked me up. She switched to Lindalambë. "Let's get you inside. In a few days, we will be going to Alqualondë. And our cousins will be coming, isn't that exciting?"

Atar was inside.

"Maitimo?" Amil enquired. Atar gave a smile. I struggled with pushing back sleep. "Here. Let me take her." I felt his strong, warm hands lift me.

"How was it?" Amil asked.

"Not bad," he said with a smile. "Findekáno-"

"His wife has currently gone to Valmar to visit her kin." Atar replied. "Taking young Ereinion with her."

A Vanyarin? _That_ was the mother of Gil-Galad? Now I was awake.

And as it turns out Ereinion was Findekáno's son after all. He might have been Artaresto- or Orodreth's son, or Findekáno's that part always confused me.

So his mother... That was another mystery solved. Findekáno married a Vanyarin, like his grandmother Indis the Fair. Oh, boy.

"Can you bathe her?" Amil asked. "I need to prepare supper."

"Are you sure?" Amil gave a huff. "Of course!"

Atar grinned. "In that case, off we go!" He cheerfully hauled me to the bathroom. That was a disappointment. Not because I disliked bathing, I wanted to know more!

After a clean bath and dinner, I was sent to bed. I slept. And dreamt.

Elves in Arda had incredibly vivid dreams, I heard. Now, this was going somewhere.

What I dreamt...

I dreamt of darkness. Darkness and shadow that consumed everything. Then I heard it.

And explosion of light, a cacophony of soundless, beautiful notes that could not be heard or perceived by any earthly ears lest their minds explode and nothing was left of them. A wondrous, sound of glee, love, joy, hope, excitement and more. And I felt _them._ The Ainur...

And Eru Ilúvatar. Glowing beings of bright, inextinguishable light burning so bright, though they seemed translucent, even transparent, I knew they were formed out of the light of the All-Father himself, and were more powerful, stronger and so much more than anything I had ever seen or imagined.

I heard them singing. And then something broke; a dark chord, a distant thing, but dark. Disturbing, breaking the peace, beauty and light. Something shattered. Something broke. The music stopped.

There was something... Or some _one_ there. A being so _dark_ and opaque, and growing darker by the very second. Something which promised to grow darker still.

Then I felt something shift. The All-Father had made it. Beings falling, the chosen Ainur like shooting stars, plunging and diving down from the Timeless Halls, the Heavens, and towards...

I felt- and _saw-_ the All-Father gave a swirl from his hand. The music that had been made suddenly took shape and formed and fell into the very centre of the void.

Something grew there... Something solid.

Then that something burst all of a sudden, whole galaxies of stars, the entire cosmos of swirling light- like the stars of Varda. Swirling, swimming through the infinite dark, making it brighter, more beautiful than anyone could ever hope for it to be.

Eä.

And then rock came, a train of asteroids forming. And finally my eyes came to rest upon a great expanse:

Arda.

But not like Arda. I saw rough, jagged rocks jutting out towards the sky, a dirty red, not like blood. I saw it move and thrust sharply, suddenly turning around and shaking terrifyingly, quivering, violent, frightening. Lava boiled and jumped, leaping in ways that would scare anyone witless.

There were no seas or water. Instead, the oceans, seas, rivers, lakes and falls were of lava- molten rock and fire. Toxic gas, so poisonous, rose like smoke into the sky. It was violent, deadly, frightening.

Then there was static. Static electricity like lightning suddenly pulsing through the clouds of toxic gas, on and deep inside the rock. Powerful electrical impulses crackling and waving, reaching out, grabbing, a brilliant fire of light and life, affecting the rising volcanoes, the rock, the magma, the air- everything.

Everywhere they touched exploded. Sparks and spray so lava flew into the air, surges of energy everywhere. Lightning struck again. Mountains and volcanoes rose. The rock softened, tenderized, mixed with other substances, including congealing lava, chemical and gas, to become earth. Lightning and energy of all kinds and colours suddenly helped form the first mountains.

Or was it the All-Father and the Valar?

The mountains rose higher, the first soil emerged, touched by all the energy around it, and what appeared as lightning.

And suddenly, out of the burnt orange and red gas, water- river, no a sea! No an ocean! Where dry land, a peninsula, a bay or even an island emerged, made out of the first soil, amidst the first water.

And gradually the gas cleared to form something not toxic, but clean, fresh and healthy. The air above the land turned greyish-blue, and soon the land, not just their mountains, rose higher and it appeared vaguely green- was it already emerging with life?

They greyish-gas in the sky suddenly came together to form clouds, paling to white. The sky emerged for the very first time, blue and clear, and the water was clear as well. The soil was turning more and more green, which meant vegetation was fast emerging. The lightning and static electricity didn't stop, and kept going though they were considerably less than before. The mountains and Arda's crust shifted and kept growing in height, the north whitened and ice and snow grew upon it. The clouds moved up ahead.

Startling, I gasped for breath and woke up. What... What was that? I felt ice down my spine, I was completely cold all over.

What did I see?

I saw the creation of Eä. And Arda. That was what I saw.

Atar woke me in the morning, and same old routine. I was bathed, diapered and dressed up.

All the while my mind kept wandering to my dream, otherwise known as my vision.

I had seen the creation of Eä and Arda.

I had seen the Ainur before they took physical form. I had seen Morgoth. And I had felt the presence of Ilúvatar.

I had seen what no elf had seen.

I breathed out.

* * *

Atar glanced at me. "What ails you Little One?" His brow furrowed. "Why are you so silent this morning?"

I blinked up at him. I couldn't very well answer. Elves might master speech before their first year mark, but at this stage my vocabulary was limited. It was much too early to talk.

I had just finished my bath. Wrapped in a towel, Atar had deigned to place a clean diaper, some lotion, powder, oil and ointment on me, and had stopped looking in the drawers for my clothes.

"You are especially quiet for a baby," Atar sighed. "I used to think that was because you were a girl- compared to the hordes of brothers, nephews and cousins I have looked after, but now I see you are much to quiet." He looked worried. "Perhaps-"

Oh no. Not a doctor, or a healer. Or anything of the sort! I'm _NOT_ mad!

Atar was interrupted by Amil poking her head in. "Maitimo-"

"She's almost done," Atar promised. "What is it?"

Amil pressed her lips together. "I'll... Tell you about it later. It's about our trip to Alqualondë."

"Right." Atar quickly dressed me. As a rule, babies should not be left unclothed, especially after washing, for long.

As soon as I was dressed and my hair combed, Amil carried me out.

"Artanis is coming, along with Findaráto, Angaráto, Aikanáro and Findekáno. Turukáno and Elenwë are bringing Itarillë. Arakáno and Írissë have decided to come, also."

"What of my brothers and their families?" Atar asked.

"Macalaurë and his family will never miss this opportunity. Our sister-by-marriage is excited to see her parents again." Amil smiled. "Tyelcormo and the twins are coming. _He_ has had... Trouble with his... Friend. "

"The maiden from Formenos?" Atar frowned. "He has worst luck than I before I married." He grinned at Amil. "And I give thanks to Ilúvatar and the Valar every day, you cannot possibly imagine how grateful I am." He kissed her.

"Poor Tyelcormo though," Atar sighed. "But then again, he will probably move onto another."

Amil sighed, rolling her eyes. "You know your brother all too-well. I don't understand what the problem he has with remaining in a lasting courtship. Surely it cannot be that all the maidens he takes an interest in-"

"Maybe," Atar shrugged. "But maybe they are just not suited to one another." He looked at her pointedly. "It does happen you know."

So Tyelcormo had another failed romance. Good grief, at this rate, he will undoubtedly go for Lúthien. And to prevent disaster, I _had_ to stop that from happening. Another thing on the list!

"Speaking of which," he said changing the subject. "My grandfather would also like to see her. But he's not the only one. The Valar have requested that we bring her to the foot of Taniquentil."

Amil stopped dead and stared at him. So did I.

"The Valar?" She asked, breathlessly. "Why?"

Maitimo frowned, looking rather worried. "I do not know. They would not say. We are allowed to go to Alqualondë and Tirion first, but upon our return, we must bring Estela to Taniquentil."

Well, this was sure to be exciting, interesting, terrifying, nerve-wracking and so much more.

"It's because of what they said, isn't it?" Amil asked, still seemingly without breath. "When we asked and prayed... When you went to Taniquentil..."

Atar frowned deeper. "I know not, but it might just be that." He admitted softly, looking at Amil and I.

"They said..." Amil didn't seem to be gazing at anything in particular. "When the light of Telperion blooms at its fullest and the stars in the sky shine brighter than ever, our daughter was to be born outside of the cities of the Ñoldor and Teleri. Hope she is, and hope she will be to those who have none, whom fate and suffering would have destroyed. But a gift she is too all, and therefore..." She trailed off.

At this point I was frozen, thunderstruck. WHAT?! What did the Valar know? What was going to happen?

How much did they know about me? Who the heck was I kidding? These were the Valar! Nothing goes by on Arda without their knowledge, and Ilúvatar may have told them!

Amil shook her head. "The visions... The ones I had when I was carrying her."

Atar himself was silent and still as a stone.

"What did they mean?" She asked aghast. "I knew she would be a hope, but there were so many visions, and all sorts of things were happening, and some-" she halted instantly. Atar instantly went and embraced her and me.

So something was going to change because of me, I thought.

"Let's go to Tirion first," Amil urged. "Make things a little easier. We need to pack things up, after all, don't we? And meet with our kin see what supplies they're taking along with them, and add everything together."

Atar nodded. "Let's go see my parents first."

* * *

Fëanáro and Nerdanel lived outside of Tirion too. With my mind buzzing with fear, shock, awe and more, I was beyond any comprehension. But I had the feeling that I was going to find out more.

Their house was large- it had to be, due to having seven sons each with their own needs, likes, hobbies and interests. Not to mention, the house had a forge for Haru and workshops for both of them. Haruni also needed her own space and environment to devise her sculptures, and I was willing to bet Haru did too.

We headed to Haruni's workshop and artisan's space. It had no paintings, but countless murals and frescoes made up of scenes, shapes and Tengwar calligraphy of sayings and poetry, abstract art and scenes made up of a variety of colours. As we entered that building, I saw Haruni, hard at work.

My eyes nearly popped out of my head, as I beheld the wonders that was her work. I had seen things in my parents house which nothing could compare in my previous lives, and no person from any of those worlds could have possibly imagined. The furniture, dishes, cutlery, even the toys and mobile and crib must have been made by hand due to the work of Fëanáro, Nerdanel, my father, mother, uncles and aunts, both Ñoldor and Teleri. Things so beautiful and dazzling that my nursery and its contents was worth more than the Koh-I-Noor diamond and the rest of the queen's gems and symbols of power in the Tower of London.

And here it was: raw work done by Nerdanel the Wise, everything was more life-like than the statues at Madame Tussauds, yet they were made of stone, some metal. These elves and animals, trees and plants. There were no words to describe it, simply no words. The perfect, details, shape, proportion all seemed to beautiful to be real, and yet they were more life-like than anything artisans had produced in my previous lives. They made the statues in septs and other monuments look like they were crudely clumped together out of mud. Not even the works in Ellesméra could compare.

And Nerdanel's shone with a vibrance and brilliance, so real, and so assured, that they moved without meaning, their legs, their arms, torsos, necks, heads, even hair moved in the wind. They _were_ motion. They spoke and chattered in their voices, or in the sounds of animals which only Tyelcormo and Oromë and his Maiar could understand. They had bones, flawless skin or rich fur, lustrous hair, eyes full of life, not cold stone. I could see every strand of hair or fur, see every muscle whether tense or fluid in motion beneath their skins. Everything was captured more than perfectly: the souls, the hearts, intent, emotions and thoughts were all there waiting to be read like a book.

Even my parents who had seen things like these countless times, could not help but be entranced.

Suddenly I pointed. Out under a shaded gazebo, hung with wisteria and honeysuckle, my grandmother sat, chiselling away. This building was full of finished sculptures it was only outside that she worked so the dust, stone-chippings and flakes could not get inside.

I pointed my finger. "Haruni!" I called out.

Nerdanel paused, and looked up a brilliant smile on her face as she beheld the three of us. "Amil!" Atar called out. "We are to depart to Alqualondë a few days hence."

"Yes," Haruni's smile widened. "Ambarussa were practically buzzing with excitement, about to burst through their skins. Tyelcormo is looking to get away too." Her smile disappeared and she looked mournful. But the smile was back again and she embraced the three of us, taking me into her arms.

"I wanted to check the load of supplies see how much they're bringing in case of horses." Amil said.

"No need to worry about that." Haruni waved a casual hand, shifting me on her hip. "They will be bringing their own horses. But I have one request."

"What is it, Amil?" Atar asked.

"Please take Telperinquar with you," she sighed, rolling her eyes. "Honestly. Curufinwë Atarinkë, all he ever does is work and study. The child is the same. It's a good thing their mother understands both sides of the argument. But Telpe needs to get out more."

"It would do him a world of good to see Alqualondë and the ocean," Atar admitted. Amil nodded.

"Carnistir is occupied," she admitted. "Curufinwë is currently with him and Tyelcormo." She looked weary. "I am beginning to lose hope of my third son ever finding happiness."

"Have a little faith." Atar said, taking me back. "I wasn't so lucky in love either. And the happiness, love and bliss at the end of the long, hard journey made it all the more sweeter." He glanced adoringly at my mother.

"I understand." She said quietly. "But I still worry." She rolled her eyes. "You know that people are writing fanciful tales about the sons of Fëanáro and their wives."

"Oh?" Amil asked dryly. "Yes, they make each love story sound like a poem, a masterful work of art, or some mythic tale. The story about Curufinwë's marriage is that he sculpted his own wife out of clay in dreaming of the ideal mate, and Ilúvatar pitying him in his lovesickness, breathed life into her.."

Atar snorted. "That would be like that brother of mine."

"I suppose her parents aren't around to prove otherwise?" Amil asked.

Haruni shook her head. "Come. Let us find your Atar."

Now wasn't that puzzling. If anyone had entertained such ideas... I'm sure there were plenty of stories around Tirion about the sons of Fëanáro and their wives, how they won their hands and hearts. I knew that all elves in Arda and Alagaësia did not go into any union, mated or married unwillingly. There was no such thing as an arranged marriage.

But something told me the official records were only the thinnest layer of icing on the many-layered cake.

* * *

 **Estela is beginning to experience vivid dreams and visions. I admit, I've always believed apart from Tyelcormo/Celegorm and the twins the sons of Fëanor would have had their own families, including spouses in Valinor. After all, the Eldar married young during their time in Valinor, and Curufin was the _fifth_ of Fëanor's seven sons. Even then, Fëanor and his sons would have inspired quite a fair bit of mystique and awe amidst the ordinary elves, even the royals, due to Fëanor's birth, his accomplishments and seven, very outstanding children. **

**Estela has begun her planning and next chapter we meet Telperinquar/Celebrimbor.**

Names:

Maitimo: Maedhros

Fëanáro: Fëanor

Findekáno: Fingon

Macalaurë: Maglor

Tyelcormo: Celegorm

Carnistir: Caranthir

Curufinwë Atarinkë: Curufin

Ereinion: Gil-Galad

Telperinquar: Celebrimbor

Findaráto: Finrod.

Angaráto: Angrod

Aikanáro: Aegnor

Turukáno: Turgon

Írissë: Aredhel

Arakáno: Argon

Ambarussa: (used to refer to Amrod and Amras both)


	3. Chapter 3

**To Tibblets: Thank you! It's nice to be back! ;) But word of warning: this character is not the same as the other protagonist in my other stories set in Arda. She may undergo same things, her personality may be different, though the physical descriptions are the same. She will have a different story, having the chance to change many things, but don't expect her to change EVERYTHING. Besides, there are twists in the plot.**

 **To VanyaNoldo22: Well as they say in Sindarin and Quenya: _Ni 'lassui_ or _Hantanyel!_ **

**Disclaimer : I don't own the works of the master J.R.R Tolkien.**

* * *

"Here." Amil declared, pulling back to inspect my hair.

We had had a change of plans. Apparently our trip to Alqualondë wasn't merely a holiday. We would be living there for a few months.

This wasn't unexpected. After all, Amil was still considered a princess of the Teleri and my parents divided their time wisely.

"Wait!" She called out to my father. He stopped and stood straight, rising an eyebrow. "I haven't checked them yet."

Amil was referring to the boxes and crates of supplies and the saddlebags that would be taken with us.

She quickly picked me up and handed me to Atar while she counted the fruits, cheeses, lembas, bottles of water and whatever else.

Atar shook his head, smiling.

"Finished yet?" Macalaurë asked from beside him. Nearby Tyelcormo was calming Huan and helping fetch Telperinquar's pony, feeding it.

"Yes." Amil nodded, satisfied, as the two of them loaded the last of them up.

Well, a lot of people had decided to take a holiday, I thought, gazing curiously at those assembled.

Findekáno was there, but his wife and son were not. Turukáno and Elenwë had brought their little daughter Itarillë- Idril. Yes, no one could mistake her. Írissë had come, and Arakáno too. From Arafinwë's brood, Findaráto had brought Amárië along, Angaráto and Aikanáro had come, all serious-faced, but eager to get to the sea. And of course: Artanis. We wouldn't have left without her.

In the meantime, a sulky, small, dark-haired boy skulked around the edges. His face bore an unmistakable resemblance to Haru and Uncle Curufinwë, this could only be Telperinquar. Findekáno helped him mount his pony and Atar made sure his saddle, reins and saddlebags were all lined up. But he seemed moody at most. Intriguingly Tyelcormo managed to get Huan on a basket-thing, which was mounted on a horse. The stallion neighed, and Tyelcormo hushed it promising carrots and sugar once we arrived. Huan did not fidget in the least.

At times like this, I look at him and wonder how he could have possibly been the same character from The Silmarillion. I wonder how Huan must have left him.

If Telperinquar was moody, Itarillë was sweet, ecstatic and brilliantly-shining to the point of hyperactive. I knew our parents were going to make us spend time together, but boy she was going to be trying, I thought.

She was small now but soon she would be growing into a very beautiful woman, and I knew that many would fall at her feet including- a sickening feeling swept through me- Maeglin.

Elves aren't stupid. In Westeros it was acceptable for even first cousins to marry each other- Ned Stark's parents Lord Rickard and Lyarra had been cousins-Lady Lyarra was Lord Rickard's first cousin once-removed, according to the family tree I saw in my first life. Tywin and Joanna were cousins, so Cersei and Jaime, the two crazy twins never gave Joffrey a chance. Tywin and Joanna's inbreeding may also help explain why Tyrion was born small. The Targaryens with their practice of marrying brother to sister ended up with half their offspring mad- or weak- while the other half turned out to be very great. And it wasn't just the civilisation of Westeros.

In my third life, I knew that many wizarding families ended up interbreeding. The Gaunts were particularly notorious in this regard, marrying their own first cousins so in the end, they were either mentally and/or physically handicapped. Even Sirius had said it, as I remembered reading in my first life.

 _"The pure-blood families are all interrelated. If you're only going to let your sons and daughters marry pure-bloods your choice is very limited; there are hardly any of us left."_

I blinked. Since when was my memory _that_ good? Especially with records?

But on said subject, somehow the elves of Alagaësia and Arda- even at this early stage, knew of such dangers. It wasn't just unnatural and abominable- it was highly dangerous for one's offspring.

Why did Maeglin go for his cousin? Surely he would have seen her as a sister?

Or maybe not, I realised with astonishment. After all, wasn't Maeglin raised by his father and mother- and maybe a few servants- alone in Nan Elmoth? His contact with outsiders would have been extremely limited. Eöl was firm friends with the dwarves, but how often did Maeglin go with him? Was that it?

And Írissë. Írissë was the only female figure (apart from any possible servants) that he would have known. His only source of comfort, and gentleness. Eöl didn't seem the nurturing type. And so Itarillë would have appeared in his life, as did the sun which he was forbidden to look at, and she must have been radiant to look upon. And the only female member of his family he was allowed contact with. But she kept her distance... Because she mistrusted him. He would not have seen her as a sister. He wanted something- some sort of love, companionship, family. But he was never fully accepted. Turukáno would have welcomed him with open arms, but he was too busy being king. Itarillë symbolised everything he ever loved and/or wanted in his life: the sun and light of day, the warmth, familiarity and comfort of family like his mother whom he lost, and love- a future full of joy and warmth. But it could never be, even if she did not despise him.

I was staring out at the distance for so long, I was startled when Atar helped Amil mount her horse and handed me to her. Itarillë rode with her mother, then her father when she reached out with grabbing hands towards him, giggling all the while.

This wasn't the mother of Eärendil. Not yet. I had to play this very, very carefully.

Macalaurë scolded two of his sons. Elenwë and Írissë were engrossed in conversation as they rode. Artanis came up to us.

"She's been awfully quiet today." Artanis remarked peering down at me. My mother looked down.

"Yes." She sighed. "She's either very quiet or she's very happy." She frowned. "I think she's thinking." She looked back at Artanis. "The Valar have summoned us to Taniquentil."

Artanis looked grim. "I had a feeling this might happen, based on what you have told me prior to her birth and begetting. We are the Eldar, Eärélen. Our fates are not our own. Our destinies are written in the stars by the All-Father, and woven through the tapestries of time by Vairë. Only the second-born have the privilege of choosing their fates."

"What?" My mother stared at her. "Artanis, what are you saying?"

Artanis gave her a look. "The second-born are mortal. In time, as long as it takes for one of the Eldar to come to adulthood, their bodies with wither. Their hair will thin and turn dull and pale. Their bones will become brittle and shrink and ache, as do their flesh. And their skin will droop, crease and wrinkle into folds. Their lives are short. This we do not know for we have always lived in the bliss of Aman. They are weak in body though their hearts, spirits and minds may be otherwise. The cold of winter and winds, and the heat of the sun will weaken them."

Amil stared. "They sound... Sickly." She cringed. "I do not mean to question the All-Father and the Ainur but how in the world are they supposed to survive in Endórë? As if the Fell Creatures that remain aren't bad enough! What in the world do they do with all that... Weather?"

Artanis delicately snorted. Even at this age she seemed wise and precocious to say the least. She was only a little older than my Amil.

"Of course, we've all heard the accounts of the elves of the Great Journey," Amil defended. "The months where everything is frozen and no food is to be found. The snowstorms so fierce that the ground would be buried within layers and layers of it- and anything upon it. The frozen waters during such seasons. The thunder and lightning and rainstorms so numerous that sometimes the waters will rise and flood everything and everywhere! How do the Avari even survive?" She whispered. "And not to mention, the earthquakes, volcanic explosions and more."

"I believe," Artanis said slowly. "That either they are not as frequent, or they are not as terrible as you may think. After all, those that underwent the Great Journey also endured the final stages of the defeat of... The Dark Master. That alone, would have made their hearts tremble with fear. Furthermore, those things that you have read, most of them are second-hand accounts, written by elves who have never been to Endórë."

Amil may have looked sheepish. "I suppose you are right." She sighed. Then she went still and silent. "Our grandfather's brother... A number of our people were lost in the woods of Nan Elmoth, or rather, he was and they remained while the rest came to Aman. I still can't help but think..." She trailed off.

Whatever it was, Artanis knew. And clearly neither cousin wished to discuss it within the reach of a baby's ears. I felt like growling in exasperation.

I couldn't even tell them that Thingol was alive along with the rest of the Sindar.

And at this stage, Amil- and Atar- would _never_ allow me to come with them to Middle-Earth. Valinor was- quite literally- a paradise. Middle-Earth was beautiful but it had its dangers, its unpredictability.

* * *

And soon the hooves of the horses reached an excited tempo. I sensed it, I knew from my experience in Ellesméra: Alqualondë.

And sure enough we reached a tall cliff.

There down below, the glittering, deep blue-green of the Beleager. And there: Alqualondë: the Haven of the Swans. The shimmering, gleaming city of pearl and silver. Nestled safely between a natural rock harbour and decorated with pearls. It had stunning views, that was one thing. The other was that it was so breathtaking in itself, of which even Ellesméra and the likes of the cities of Du Weldenvarden could not compare.

But oh! The sea itself sang in my blood and my heart! It called to me like no other! No wonder Galadriel warned Legolas that to set eyes upon the sea would mean that his heart would never truly rest within the forest again. My time in Alagaësia itself had taught me that all elves had a natural longing for the sea. How, I do not know. As mentioned, the elves there and here are different, especially in origins.

All white, and capped with silver, Alqualondë's buildings were slim and very graceful, seemingly light, like swans about to take flight (no wonder they named it that). There were countless pearls and other gems: opals, topazes, tourmalines, jet, amethyst, aquamarine, rubies, garnets, emeralds, diamonds, sapphires along with shards of crystal were strewn about the shores from the rock pools Amil had so happily mentioned. There were more jewels there than any place I had ever seen in all my previous lives- even with dwarves. Some of them were given by the Ñoldor others came, washed up by the tide from the sea. The streets of Alqualondë were sparkling clean and paved- shockingly free of any dirt or fish remnants, in ivory-coloured stone and crystal, beautifully meandering all across the city in such artful ways, their indescribably lovely artwork, and gates of pearl and silver. One tower stood taller and higher than the others, the silver flashing and sparkling in Laurelin's light.

And then there were the ships. Oh, the ships. Lighter, more graceful and narrow than vessels built by humans and dwarves, like the ships of Alagaësia's elves, I had no doubt it could move without sound, and didn't need much water to float, and barely any steering. It was the same colour as many of the buildings, and the most distinct feature: the prows bore the figureheads on the prows were shaped like swans' necks and heads with gold beaks and jet eyes. The fresh, clean sea air hit me and I suppressed the urge to jump, shriek with glee and dance around, excitedly.

But I couldn't stop the gasp and the eager light in my eyes. Amil and Artanis both saw this and smiled. As did Findaráto. "Well, I think this Little One is eager to go, don't you?" He chuckled, and then urged the horses on.

Teleri halted and looked up at our approach calling our names, shouting greetings and practically glowing with joy. People ran to greet us. I was abashed. I couldn't help it. I buried my face into Amil's dress and she chuckled, shifting me in her arms.

With cheers and songs of welcomes still ringing in our ears, we made our way to a more secluded part of the city.

A lake. As if I could not be more stunned. There was a lake- freshwater by the looks of it, with countless lotuses and lily-pads floating atop the clear, and sparkling water. The water itself looked as clear as a mirror and so clean that I longed to dip my hands to take a drink. There were a few islands here and there, rich with trees and flowering plants, but the most surprising thing were the houses. Large manors, mansions or even palaces if they can be called that, sprawling, luxurious and beautiful buildings floating amidst the islands or the edges of the lake in some cases. My jaw dropped. It was as if the inhabitants of Alqualondë could live in their own personal island-kingdoms.

Atar took me and helped Amil down. Amil passed me to Írissë while the others helped with the horses and luggage. I stared shocked and wide-eyed in wonder. Írissë laughed.

"It's beautiful, isn't it Little One?" She smiled, bouncing me gently. "You're lucky you'll be staying here for half a year in your life."

Ah, how could I deny that?

We were standing on a jetty that looked like it was made of gold, or at least wood-like gold. Crystal lamps in the shapes of flowers were unlit, jutting up from posts entwined with ornamental gold vines. Everything was a dream unlike reality which I had previously experienced.

Soon after elves appeared, paddling leaf-shaped oars on boats white as cloud which, like the ships in the harbour, had swans' heads and necks carved into the prows. The only difference was that the heads had gold crowns and these were smaller boats.

"Come Macalaurë- help me with these." Atar said, shifting some of the luggage onto one boat. Most of them did the same. Írissë passed me to Artanis so she could help, while Amárië struggled to keep a hold of an excitable Itarillë.

"Come Telpe," Atar called. Telpe looked warily at the boats. "It's not going to tip over. The Teleri are the finest boat-builders in Arda." Tyelcormo was also struggling to get Huan into the boat.

Still looking highly suspicious that it was almost comical, Atar and Macalaurë helped the young future Ringmaker onto one boat. Again, I was passed hands, onto the boat and Itarillë squealed as she was swung by her arms onto another.

"Ah." Amil looked fresh and even more radiant than before. "It's good to be back." My aunt agreed. "So which one is yours?" Amárië asked. Amil pointed. "That one."

The palace- or manor, I could not tell for it was partly hidden by lush trees and flowering plants- stood on one of the nearer islands. It looked made of glass, crystal, pearl and silver, a gem-like piece of the most exquisite art. Rich flowers: irises, oleander, myrtle and buttercup framed the front, and creeping roses and cherry blossoms adorned archways. The wide windows had the closest thing to stained glass I had seen but lighter, more delicate in colour and form, as if the colours had been coaxed to emerge naturally, rather than strongly dyed into the glass. Framed in silver or pale gold, they shouldn't have been in harmony these colours, but they were. I could see images of flowers etched and coloured into the glass, and beautiful imagery of all kinds. The rest appeared made out of the same white stone, whiter than marble with a hint of silver, as the main parts of the city, but looked more like lace and embroidery.

Amárië, Itarillë, Elenwë and the others who had never been to Alqualondë (myself included) gasped admiringly. Even Telperinquar was too stunned and in awe to act sullen. Artanis smiled. "Maitimo and Eärélen were hard at work creating the manor and gardens." She said.

Atar grunted. "It was lucky we had help."

"And now you are finally bringing a little one here!" Artanis beamed.

I clapped and laughed excitedly.

We approached the manor, some elves- attendants to my surprise- thoughtfully helped us with our belongings and took over the boats. Itarillë squealed with excitement. As her parents swung her off the ship and onto the island, I realised that she was barefoot- like in the Silmarillion. She hardly- if ever- wore shoes.

That was a sobering thought. Even more sobering was what would happen to this city soon enough. But I forced the thought from my mind. I would _not_ let it sour my mood.

I could not if they needed to trust me.

"Alright then!" Maitimo clapped his hands. "Shall we?" He gestured to the house.

Everyone was too excited and eager to see it all. Inside, the pale, creamy and delicate pastels of the windows and their frames had somehow harmoniously blended with the colours of the sea; blues and greens upon the floor. Frescoes and mosaics decorated the place, along the white walls, while soft rugs blanketed the floor. Luxurious furniture, fanciful and exquisite were placed in seating areas and niches where people could just relax and do whatever they wished. In front of us was a large staircase in green stone with gold banisters, and the doorways had pretty scrollwork dancing at the top.

"So, while Grandfather's thoughtful attendants helpfully place our things away," Amil began. "Shall we begin with a tour? This is Estela's first time too!"

The laughter echoed throughout the halls and Amil and Atar began to eagerly show us about. The library had shelves full of books, fine sculptures of ents framing the bookshelves, and carved birds streaking across the painted ceiling. The gardens had different flowers from our home outside of Tirion: myrtle, sea lavender, sea roses, lilies and sea daffodils, shaded bowers and marble fountains, spilling onto jasmine. Cherry blossom trees emitted a wonderful fragrance and I could see Amil had been hard at work. And as if the lake and sea were not enough there were pools for swimming too.

"I've always been longing to fill this place with people." Amil sighed. "Especially little ones."

I glanced at her curiously, then I remembered the rooms which we had seen: some of them looked so ready to hold people that I realised Amil and Atar must have been planning a very large family to begin with. They had always loved children and Atar had plenty of practice, but only I had arrived- and very late at that.

I felt horrible, terrible guilt at that, because I was not the child Atar and Amil expected. I had lived numerous lifetimes before, and essentially held an adult's mind playing at being a child. At the same time, they had absolutely no other offspring. They must have spent decades, if not centuries without a child. I adored and worshipped them, but at the same time...

I mentally sighed. Nothing for it.

This life of bliss in paradise would never last for them anyway. Here was my chance to save them.

* * *

We met Great-Grandfather Olwë soon after we were settled and refreshed. Now bathed and dressed in clean clothes we were presentable enough to go to the royal court and the city.

As I would later learn, we weren't the only ones to live in what humans in my first world referred to as a 'neighbourhood', on a lake with islands. Plenty of Teleri within Alqualondë and outside liked to live in manors and mansions, or smaller houses that were still stylish and full of comfort on small islands or at the shores of lakes. The reason that people lived near the heart of the city where Great-Grandfather Olwë had his palace and court, was because they had businesses or owned or worked on ships at the harbour, the court, or somewhere where people needed to find them easily. But the houses there were no less beautiful and elegant, there was no such thing as poverty for elves. Even though they did not need to work, they wished for a purpose in life- as was the reason why elves in any world would take up professions.

My great-grandfather was a man with a warm, gentle and friendly face. Yet you would never mistake it for being weak. He was an elf accustomed to the sea and sailing. Therefore, he was tall, looked strong, though lean, had long, slim fingers that would have been well-used for pulling taut ropes, steering and other things. He did not have the typical rugged, wind-blown looks of humans who lived that way, but I could easily sense the sea about it. Everything from the aura he exuded, to the strength of his arms, to the way he held himself and moved- like water, to his platinum-white hair which reminded me of sea-foam, and his piercing blue eyes.

His face had broken into a grin the minute he saw Amil and the rest of his grandchildren and their spouses. I was crushed while he embraced us, lifting me into the air to fuss- making me crow with delight to entertain others- and welcomed the rest of the Ñoldor and Vanyar to his kingdom.

"So finally, you've brought the Little One to Alqualondë," my forefather said in Lindalambë. I giggled and touched his face with my two pudgy hands. He pretended to gobble up my fingers, kissing them. I cooed.

"Where are my grandmother and parents?" Amil asked.

"Unfortunately your father is still at sea," Olwë sighed. "Your mother is with some friends. I have sent some word of her arrival. Your grandmother will be arriving shortly."

I was handed back to Atar and eagerly, my forefather ushered us to another room in preparation for the evening meal. He'd invited many elves of the court, and beyond. Surprise as it may be to other races, it did not matter to the majority of the Eldar whose offspring you were, or what social rank or how much wealth you held. All elves were cherished and loved in the eyes of Ilúvatar, the Valar and the majority of the Maiar. All elves contributed to their society to make Valinor the wondrous place it was. Why should anyone discriminate, least of all kings who themselves were _chosen_ to become so?

Though _The Hobbit: Desolation of Smaug_ may say otherwise about Thranduil. But I admit I find that bit dubious. Maybe because Tauriel wasn't canon. I don't know.

"So," Olwë began. "How fares my friends from Tirion, including Finwë and those in Valmar?" He added, looking at the Vanyarin Amárië.

"My grandfather is extremely well, as are my parents, siblings and nephews," Atar answered. "As for the others-" he looked at the rest.

"My father sends you his greetings as do my mother," Findekáno put in. "Unfortunately, as of this moment, my wife has gone to Valmar with my son, Ereinion."

"A pity." Olwë stated. "Children are growing scarcer as the years go by, thus it gladdens my heart when I hear the House of Finwë is so blessed."

So birth and begetting rates had already begun to drop.

"Our parents are well, also but they could not come, I am afraid Grandfather Finwë has them busy with something, they refused to tell us." I looked at Findaráto in surprise.

"And as I hear, King Ingwë is well." Amárië demurred.

"Good." My forefather smiled.

I spun around, bored. Telperinquar was being steered forwards by Uncle Tyelcormo, looking sulky and fidgety- again.

Tyelcormo smiled. "This is my young nephew Telperinquar, son of Curufinwë," Atar introduced.

"Ah, yes!" Olwë grinned. "The crafty one! Dear me, he does look like his father and grandfather, does he not?" Atar and Macalaurë chuckled.

"Yes, and his temperament is the same," Tyelcormo playfully ruffled Telpe's hair, earning a scowl. It registered to me that this was the first time he has spoken out loud since we had left. The break-up must have been harder for him to deal with than I had thought.

Grimacing inwardly, I prayed for a miracle.

Was it Morgoth that drove him mad? The Silmarils? The effects of so many times a heart can be broken? Or Lúthien herself?

Honestly, I don't know. Next to my father, he was considered the handsomest of Fëanáro's sons. His Vanyarin-like looks came from my great-grandmother Istarnië, Nerdanel's mother who must have had Vanyarin blood as well. He was fair-skinned and had gorgeous blue eyes with golden-blond hair, attractive and lean as a predator, yet muscled, with chiselled features, not as strikingly sharp as my grandfather's but as meltingly gorgeous as could be. He was sunny, athletic, and if human high school girls ever saw him, they would die on the spot, their hearts stopping. He couldn't have had trouble attracting maidens to him.

Making them stay was another thing.

"Before we go on," My forefather said. "There are gifts to be given. We must also plan for Estela's presentation to this court and city."

"Of course." Amil nodded, tactfully. "And we have gifts to present to you as well," Macalaurë stated. "Boys!" He said, exasperated at the antics of his boisterous sons.

"For once in your short lives-"

"Come now, let children be children," Olwë waved a careless hand. "There's an eternity to be otherwise once their childhood is over." He smiled at me. "She looks like both of you. I can also see Fëanáro, Finwë and Míriel in her features, as well as her hair." He nodded approvingly. "But I can also see your mother and father," he grinned at my mother. "And me and my wife, of course." He sighed. "Children grow so fast. And yet they always take time in coming."

"I know that now," Amil said quietly. "You, Grandmother and my parents have always spoken of how long they waited for me to come." She shook her head. "Everyone of their siblings had married and had grown children by the time I came. I don't know how long we withstood our childlessness either."

My forefather placed a hand upon her small shoulder. "I know." He said. "But the longer the wait, the more you realise it is worth it."

* * *

"I cannot believe it," my Telerin grandfather grinned.

He had the same incredible good looks as Eärwen, his sister and Artanis' mother.

"She's definitely grown." He said approvingly. His hair was more like burnished or molten silver, he had high, striking cheekbones, a straight high nose, fine lips and smooth, flawless skin with a sheen that looked like it had been dusted with crushed silver or mother-of-pearl. His features were incredibly fine and chiselled. So this was where my mother received half her looks from, I thought. And her complexion.

His name was Elulindo, High Prince of the Teleri. "Now, Estela." My mother cooed in Lindalambë. "Why don't you spend some time with your grandparents? There are some people Atar and Amil have to greet." And I was shuffled off to my grandfather's arms.

I had been cooing and entertaining guests and family with my cuteness as much as possible. Amárië played with me.

"She's beautiful." She cooed wistfully. She and Findaráto exchanged smiles at each other, no doubt imagining their own offspring. A pity 'elflings' were only going to get rarer and rarer.

"So, how long have you two-" my grandfather began teasingly.

Amárië flushed. "Oh, not for long," Findaráto admitted. "I see. And what do your parents say about this?" Elulindo asked, amused.

Findaráto grinned sheepishly. "Long enough." He admitted. Grandmother took me in her arms.

"That hair like burnished copper," she murmured. "I remember seeing Nerdanel, but I swear her hair wasn't as deep and lush a crimson as this. Though the silver," she mused. "That's definitely Telerin."

"But the gold?" Írissë asked, amused. "That could be from you Tyelcormo. You've passed something down to your niece," she said, amused.

Tyelcormo smiled, mechanically, but the look in his face appeared strange. I winced inwardly, he was probably thinking that he was never going to find a wife, much less a father. So far, out of the sons of Fëanáro, apart from Tyelcormo only the twins were unmarried.

So I decided to distract him. "GAH!" I cried out, reaching my arms towards Tyelcormo. He took me, gingerly, smiling amusedly, when I tugged at his face, trying to get him to smile. I cooed and chortled with laughter, giving a gentle tug to a lock of gold hair. He bounced me up and down gently crooning softly while I cooed.

This wouldn't last, I would make sure of it.

* * *

I was already asleep, worn out by the time we reached our home. But my dreams didn't rest.

In my dreams, I saw the Valar and the Maiar at their work.

I saw Aulë hammering and chiselling more at the mountains, forming each one into something entirely different. I saw Ulmo raise the seas, filling them and urging the life to multiply aplenty. They were simple, transparent, glowing cells that split in half and then morphed into fish, eels, crustaceans, amphibians and sea mammals, swimming through the depths of the waters. I saw Yavanna spreading her arms, speaking to the greenery, coaxing them, stroking, loving, nurturing and loving them, making them grow tall, more vibrant in colour, strong and healthy. I saw Oromë riding on Nahar, bringing the animals forth and teaching them, like Nessa, his sister, to run. I saw Nessa dancing and Tulkas laughing at the beasts and their antics and jokes. Vána Every-Young scattered her power nearby causing flowers to spring, bloom and grow, the younger creatures to laugh, dance and leap. Everything was bright, fruitful and luminous. I saw Manwë holding out his arms, and at his command, he and his Maiar blew, the freshness of the air multiplying, so did the winds, shifting in their currents. The sky seemed to grow bluer. The King of the Valar spread out his arms and the Great Eagles flew. They brought the wind with them, it seemed, on their mighty wings. And oh, it blew. I could feel it.

And there was Varda, high on a mountain, with her Maiar, around a great cauldron filled with a swirling _something_ that exuded so much light I knew mortal eyes could never see them up close, before she and her ladies scooped up handfuls of it and gently tossed and scattered them up into the night sky.

And then I saw Aulë again: he was hammering something. No, wait make that two. Flames _whooshed_ and rose high. They were made of gold and silver. If I could have gasped, I would have. They were ornately carved and fashioned, elegant in the way that no elf could have made. Magnificent. Varda filled the two globes at the end with light. And both rose; one in the north and the other in the south. Ormal the Gold and Illuin the Silver. The Great Lamps.

But amidst it all, something was wrong. I just knew it. Blood crept into the rivers, ponds, streams and springs, poison choked the plants, contaminating them, and making them weaken, wither and fade to the poisoned earth. Blood from the corpses of dead animals, others were found hiding nearby, feral with snarling teeth and growls so hateful I glimpsed the madness and hate in their eyes.

Tulkas sprang alert. I saw a dark shadow in the distance- I knew it was Melkor. Tulkas gave chase, and Oromë, mounting Nahar, did the same. Finally all seemed well.

Tulkas arrived back and Nessa danced, flowers springing from her feet and her rich hair. She was gowned in white and the creamy-pastel flowers complimented the shade.

The Valar and Maiar laughed and danced, feasting and singing. Tulkas lay down, weary, Nessa did too. Both slept on the fragrant green and the beds of flowers.

But Melkor was delving deep underground, this I knew. A fortress which delved deeper beneath the earth it would take days, if not weeks to get to the very bottom, the fiery core. It was dark, cavernous, frightening and so terrifying I wanted to scream when I saw what lay within.

I did scream. And Amil and Atar came rushing into my nursery.

* * *

 **Elulindo was the name Telerin name J.R.R Tolkien came up for a son of Elwë in an early genealogical table, though in later versions of the (unpublished) Silmarillion, it was the name of one of the sons of Olwë, so it may be safe to say that he's canon.**

 **Istarnië was an early version of the name for the wife of Fëanor. However, now fanfiction writers use that name for Nerdanel's mother.**

 **P.S: I changed the name of Estela's mother, in the previous chapters as well as this one. I had to make adjustments because of the Telerin language. Eärwen's name means 'Sea-Maiden' but it could be translated in other languages as 'Maiden of the Sea'. So taking that grammar into context about Lindalambë, the Telerin language, Estela's mother's name became Eärélen- meaning 'Sea-Star' or 'Star of the Sea'. It was a struggle with that name.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Another difference between the protagonist here and the one in Shieldmaiden, isn't just the self-insert, but the age. The date at the beginning of the story is Y.T 13, 384, the year Estela was born- roughly a year after her 'begetting'. This would make her around thirty-one (still considered a child in elven standards) by the time of Melkor's release in Y.T 13, 415, but not as small as in Shieldmaiden.**

 **To VanyaNoldo22: Hantanyel! Oh, it's not going to be easy. Estela knows this. Part of the reason she's making herself into an adorable baby (apart from the fact that she doesn't want her parents and family to feel deprived) is for them to forge a bond. They'll soon start to notice that she's a very precicious baby- even by the standards of the elves, but she needs them to trust her. **

**That doesn't mean that she will be able to change _everything_ , though. And let's be frank here, this comes at a price. **

**To Tibblets: Thank you! Just wait and see what's in store for her during the War of the Ring. If you only knew! ;) Some parts are going to be quite funny!**

 **T** **O ALL READERS : I have to make time gaps in order to move the plot along but I'm doing my best not to spoil the pacing and storyline. **

* * *

I hated being small. I loathed being immobile.

In my first life, I didn't remember. In my second, oh, that had been all too painful.

Getting squeezed out was only the first trial. When I was born, I lived in beautiful Dorne. But forget the Water Gardens, that would come generations later with the marriage of the first Daenerys, sad to admit, but true. No, I grew up in Sunspear.

And then Daeron the Young Dragon came barging in, bringing the host of the Seven Kingdoms with him, and attempting to subjugate an eighth. I had gathered as many a host of Dornish fighters, showing the Young Dragon what it meant to be fighting against a guerilla force, but he still got us anyway. And so, Sunspear was opened, but we never made any promises, nor did we plan to.

And then Daeron set his eyes on me, the youngest Martell and it was a case of one-thing-led-to-another. We fell in love, simply put. I loved him, even as I hated what he had done to our country.

We were going to be married- until an assassin swooped in and killed us both. I was never the queen of the Seven Kingdoms, so don't get your hopes up. The first Dornish queen was Mariah Martell, she married Daeron 'the Good' a few generations afterwards.

And then I was born again. Hogwarts. This was in this life. _This_ was where the magic began.

Not the freaky stuff the Red Priests and Priestesses did, but real magic. I soaked it all up like a sponge, or swallowed everything like an alcoholic presented with Dornish reds, Arbor golds and the sweet wines of the Reach, Tyroshi pear brandy and more. I learned magic as much as I could. I was eager to learn more. Was it any wonder I was sorted into Ravenclaw (I was a hatstall- almost got into Slytherin).

But the horror, carnage and destruction of my second life burned deep within my heart and soul. I never took a boyfriend during my time in Hogwarts. I threw myself deep into my studies. I enjoyed _watching_ Quidditch, but never dreamt about playing it. I avoided the 'golden trio' as much as possible. I was eager to help them but from the sidelines, hidden as if I had my own invisibility cloak. I didn't want anyone interfering, not even Dumbledore. Due to the exceedingly appalling and poor teaching of Severus Snape, I asked for private potion lessons, which my father readily agreed to after hearing of Snape's methods, and so I learnt to make Blood-replenishing potion, Pepper-Up potion, draughts, essences, solutions, antidotes, elixirs, heck, even Sleekeazy's hair potion. If I lacked ingredients, there was a secret to that. Just as it is in the kitchen, what most potioneers didn't know was that there were substitutes with potion ingredients just as there were culinary ones. I became an expert at charms and duelling too, transfiguration I was competent enough, though Arithmancy drove me crazy, and I researched as much about other topics as I possibly could. I had a feeling that I might- _might_ have enjoyed Divination too, if Trelawny wasn't outright nuts.

Hmm, now there was a thought.

And despite training as a healer or a mediwitch, nevertheless it was the end of everything when Bellatrix Lestrange blasted me dead.

My fourth life was also filled with magic. And there was something else. But I didn't get why magic took such a great deal out of your own energy. Then I understood. _Wandless_ magic. Magic with no instruments. Of course, I felt tired after a day of wandwork, but I was always exhausted whenever I used too much magic. I needed a magical instrument.

A good thing I researched wandlore.

It was a good thing too, I learned how to sing to plants, shaping the trees in the way I wished. Although I learnt from Rhunön too, it wasn't my favourite subject, forging.

But I could use magic. I could store energy in gemstones, set pigments in slate and make fairths with my mind, I could cast wards around myself and sing to the metals as they were forged into weapons or even jewellery. I could sing to plants and in the end, I could have recreated Vrael's tree-house in Ellesméra if I so wanted.

But I added my knowledge to it all. In my previous life, I had been an expert potioneer, arithmancer (to an extent), diviner (again I had a limit there, Trelawney was a terrible teacher), charms master and could defend myself well enough using magic. Transfiguration was hard but I could also do it. And I was a herbologist, not to the same degree as Neville Longbottom but excellent enough. I applied my knowledge in the next life, with all the healing abilities I had. I became the healer for the Riders on Vroengard.

And had quite the relationship with Vrael.

Don't get me wrong: I'm no prude. But it literally took me a lifetime to recover from Daeron and even then, I was reluctant. The romance began as a tiny flirtation before he became Head Rider- and thank goodness, people would have snickered and gossiped about that- but then again, they did it anyway. Vrael was never untoward. But I knew what would happen.

So why should I get my hopes up?

Even when tending to an injured, almost comatose young Rider whom I learned, was named Galbatorix.

Quite the shock.

I opened my eyes and gazed at the stars.

 _Why?_ I wanted to know. Why do I have to keep repeating life? In different worlds no less? Was there any chance for happiness?

I was silent.

Ellesméra was a paradise, until Fall of the Riders. Hogwarts was a wonderland, a playground for those seeking to uncover mysteries and those who thirsted for knowledge. Westeros was… Well, it was a few dragons short of a Medieval-themed dystopia, but with its golden chivalrous moments. It might have seemed like the real Middle Ages, only with magic and what-not. A pity the dragons had been extinct by the time I got there.

And now I was in Arda- in Tolkien's world.

As a Fëanorian scion.

I groaned inwardly, tossing.

I was going to get more dreams, I was sure of it.

* * *

I saw Melkor toppled the Great Lamps.

The Valar froze and the Maiar stopped whatever they were doing.

Tulkas jumped to his feet, and so did Oromë. Manwë appeared before them and urged them to make haste; to go after Melkor.

But Melkor had already fled, trusting in the safety of Utumno.

The memory of the shrieks, screams, howls and pure, indescribable, utter horror of what lay within made me whimper and turn, shaking with fear in my sleep.

The vision shifted, moving to the stars high up above.

The stars for some reason, glowed brighter now. They were like no stars I had seen in any world, down on the ground.

And down below, a sea, so blue, clear and pure, its waters untainted by Melkor's foulness. There was a bay there. People lay, sleeping upon its shores.

They stirred. One of them woke, and gazed in awe and wonder at the maiden beside him who was slowly opening her eyes. She gazed at him, utterly entranced and captivated, as he was. Both were gold haired.

The next ones to wake, and gaze at each other in love, awe and wonder were a second couple, dark-haired I thought- it was at a distance. The third couple were silver-haired.

Teleri, I thought. Vanyarin and Ñoldorin by the looks of them.

Or rather Minyar, Tartyar and Nelyar, this was before the sundering of the elves.

I always wondered what happened to Imin, Iminyë, Tata, Tatië, Enel and Enelyë. Maybe I could ask Great-Grandfathers Finwë and Olwë someday, when my speech had further developed.

The first sight, Amil had told me as I was a baby lying in my crib, that these elf-maidens had were of their own spouses. Upon seeing the beauty of their wives, the three of them began thinking up words to describe their feelings and woke them. After they had devised as many words as possible, they would go forth.

But I saw them go forwards, seeking out their peoples. They came across six pairs of elves, sleeping blissfully, unaware of what was to come.

Imin the first one, claimed them as his own and woke them. After a while, they discovered their strength was sufficient and moved on. After the new elves had learned to speak and devised more words together, they prepared to head out

Next, they saw nine pairs of elves, sleeping in a wider hollow and Tata the second-eldest, claimed them.

The elves woke their spouses and began speaking and learning the old words, making new ones as they went along.

Then, they came to a birch grove by the stream where twelve new elves were already waking. Of course, it was Enel's turn and he claimed them as his people.

Now, the sixty elves began to sit beside the stream, inventing not only words but songs and poetry.

I watched fascinated. _This isn't so terrible after all._

So off they went yet again. And this time, I remembered what Amil had said: the further they went the more elves they found. Imin, the firstborn was waiting to be the last, so he could gain more. Quite arrogant, though, but maybe he shouldn't have jumped to conclusions first.

Then beside a sweet-smelling fir-wood, eighteen pairs of dark-haired elves lay sleeping. A gust of wind blew, disturbing their slumber, but when their eyes opened, they didn't look at the new elves. Instead they gazed wide-eyed and in awe at the stars, and they cried out.

" _Elen, Elen!"_ I didn't know how they managed to immediately come up with the same word for star, but they did.

The new thirty-six awakened Quendi went to Tata. I could smirk. Honestly, with this attitude, Imin was bound to get the fewest. But who was I to judge?

So, the ninety-six un-begotten Quendi, made even more words. It was so interesting, so fascinating. I had never seen the creation stories in any world, until now. They were celebrating, singing laughing and chatting happily amongst themselves, but they needed to find more elves.

A dark lake, the colour of twilight was their next stopover. It had a high cliff on its east and rushing waterfalls. The Quendi were stunned, amazed and in awe of their surroundings.

Washing themselves under the falls, were twenty-four male elves, their spouses in the shallows. They didn't speak but they sang, nevertheless. And it was a beautiful, wonderful song, filled with joy, emotion and love, for each other, for the stars and for the world around them.

These forty-eight elves went to Enel's group. And it was no surprise that Imin's group was the smallest- I'm pretty sure the Vanyarin numbers have multiplied aplenty by this time, however- after all they had a large number of cities and some of them lived in Tirion, according to Tolkien.

So, it was strange, wasn't it? Beautiful, awe-inspiring but a strange, otherworldly thing to see the life appearing in your own species.

I had been human for three lifetimes, this was my second time as an elf.

My second time as an immortal- the last time, I died during the Fall of Vroengard.

And the elves dwelt there and were happy. At least for now.

When I opened my eyes again, I was noticeably cheerful.

* * *

We had breakfast together in the morning and Itarillë was chattering away like an excited squirrel.

Not all Arda's history was bad, I reflected.

Some of it was good. That filled me with hope.

As everyone chatted eagerly at breakfast, passing baskets of rolls, pitchers of milk and juice, and other foods, I was fed again- by Atar and Amil.

Seriously, how long do I have to be a baby for?!

I already had my teeth- that part was over and while it wasn't as dreadful as the previous times I had been reborn and became an infant, it still hurt- surely I could begin handling food by myself now?

"What news?" Atar said, taking- was that a _newspaper_ \- here in Arda?!- from Macalaurë.

"Atar is thinking on taking more apprentices," Macalaurë said casually. Tyelcormo snorted as he spread marmalade on his toast. "King Ingwë is speaking to Haru about… Some matter of great importance. I know not. "Apparently our three kings are in talks with the Valar- planning something in the celebrations."

"A celebration?" Tyelcormo scoffed again. He set down a plateful of food for Huan who eagerly began to wolf it down.

"You mean the Festival of Creation?" Amárië asked eagerly. "What are they planning? Why so secretive?"

Macalaurë answered: "Because they're planning something special this year. I know not what it is, but it's hinted as being a surprise." He casually put some spread on his toast.

"But it's so far away!" Angaráto growled. "Why now?" Aikanáro looked dubious. "We still have time. Why are they-"

"It doesn't say." Atar said, brow furrowing. "But it must be something if they start planning it _now."_

Amil and my Telerin aunt, Macalaurë's wife, arched their eyebrows when she looked at Atar, and the former continued spooning food into my mouth.

Being a baby I know very little about elven holidays in Arda. This was only my first year of life for crying out loud! But the Feast of Creation was a celebration commemorating the awakening of the Elves in Cuiviénen. It was a sacred feast day, and a way of celebrating and thanksgiving for the life and beauty that we were given and surrounded by, for the safe refuge in Valinor, the breath in our bodies, our children and so forth. A newborn's first Feast of Creation was quite a memorable thing, for the parents had a special duty to give thanks, and Amil and Atar were intently discussing it numerous times before we had left. Because they were given a child- new life, they had to give something in return, to show their appreciation and gratitude for the blessing they were given. I wonder what it would be, as Amil had said that the Valar had no greed for materialistic items, even less Eru Ilúvatar. And there was no poor to give charity to. Another thing was that there were no temples, churches, synagogues or mosques and shrines here. Arda did not have an organised religion, the way many worlds did.

"We'll be celebrating the Feast of Creation in Valmar this year," Atar said casually.

"That's to be expected," Amil muttered. "But what is this about the harvest festival? Are there any hints?"

Atar shrugged. Tyelcormo suddenly put down his knife. "It's the Second-born, isn't it?" He challenged. "The ones who have yet to awake."

Itarillë and Telperinquar immediately looked at him, both puzzled.

"Now, now, Tyelcormo," Amil warned. "We have children here. No rants about the Atani during breakfast. What a way to start one's day."

"What is the Atani?" Telpe asked, eagerly.

"Nothing important." Atar said quickly, but Ambarussa exchanged dark glances at one another and Tyelcormo. It was clear. There had been many heated words about the Second-born- humans- within my grandfather's walls.

 _Why was he so hostile?_ I wondered.

Could he… Surely not?

He couldn't have been _jealous,_ could he?

Jealous of mankind? Of the sickly mortal ones? Why? Men would kill for immortality- Voldemort literally did, and Galbatorix and the Forsworn thrived on it too- so why did Grandfather, as mentioned during the dinner with Alacion and his family, resent them- for Middle Earth?

But maybe Grandfather was like Rhunön. I still remembered what she said to Eragon in Book Two, that the goal matters not, only the journey towards it. Maybe the life in Aman was getting easy- too easy- for Haru- Fëanáro. He craved new challenges, new discoveries. He had already invented the Tengwar, by perfecting Rúmil's Sarati. He had invented the Fëanorian lamps, that were like the Erisdar lamps in Alagaësia used by dwarves and elves alike.

That kind of restless energy- in a land full of elves grown easy and complacent under the countless blessings of Ilúvatar and the Valar- no wonder Haru had made the Silmarils.

What else did he create? The Palantíri? Had he already done so?

"Well, apart from this-" the news went on and nothing caught my attention.

* * *

Amil took me to the beach- or more specifically, to gather gems from the pools and have my first ship experience. Everyone else had gone to the rock pools. Itarillë and the others would sail tomorrow.

The boats were beautiful, and the ships. White as pearl and snow with their swan heads.

It was incredible. The power and majesty they held, yet the simple peace they conveyed. They weren't war ships like the English Galleons, or anything like that, they were… Swan ships.

And they were incredible. They seemed to be alive, to take flight into the winds.

I gasped, and stretched out my hands, giggling (yes, I'll admit that) so much that Amil could barely hold me back.

I reached out as far as I could.

Amil sighed. As I squirmed and wriggled with excitement, she boarded the gangplank onto the ship.

"I wanted to be here when she first sets sail," Grandfather Elulindo smiled, emerging from behind a mast, and navigating his way towards us. Amil gave him a peck on the cheek. I giggled and crowed with delight when he lifted me up. The crew smiled. "Shall we take her out to see?"

"Let's pray to Ulmo, Ossë and Uinen that there are no storms today." Amil said, taking me back.

"Come now," Grandfather's eyes twinkled. "What's life without a little risk?"

They were speaking in Lindalambë, and it astonished me. I knew that the Common Tongue of Westeros and Alagaësia corresponded with English, and Westron was _represented_ as being English in the books, but was an entirely different language. So how was it, that I could understand Quenya _and_ Lindalambë with ease?

The Valar may be the only ones I have ever met in the universe to have some answers yet.

I sighed, then after watching the crew fuss around, the ship moved forwards- it didn't lurch as I expected it too, but it came close.

But it was all so smooth and light, the experience was similar as the elven ships in Alagaësia, but… _More._

It felt lighter, smoother and more graceful and when the elf at the wheel took it, it came to life as if by magic, which the elves here didn't use to such an extent. The sails sprang up and wove around and pushed us, seemingly without any wind, towards open water.

There were plenty of ships and boats whereupon we had to weave in and out, as graceful as my foremother's hands on her loom. We glided, weaving past them and at last! We were on the open ocean.

The blue-green of the sea was so vibrant today, the sky was clear and the gulls sang, seemingly with delight. Amil laughed, joyfully as I shrieked with glee, leaning forwards to gaze upon the waters.

Dolphins.

Dolphins were beginning to emerge and leap, bursting through the waves. But what really shocked me were the great numbers they came in. There must have been dozens of dolphins leaping and playing excitedly on either side of our ship as we sailed.

The crew noticed it, as did Grandfather. "Strange," he murmured. "I have never seen so many dolphins, not in the brightest days of summer, where the children all gather to play."

I wonder…

The dolphins leapt and trilled. I cooed and held out my hand. They squeaked delightedly and chirped, singing their songs to me. My laughter echoed all around us. If anything, the dolphins seemed to be further overjoyed.

Then a call of birds- but not just any birds.

A huge flock of swans flew down, swooping with their beating wings, as white as the boats which were fashioned in their honour. They all swirled around the ship, and went lower and lower.

Until we saw them at eye level. Gazing directly at me.

My mother's rich violet eyes widened, as she gazed in shock and awe, at me and the swans and dolphins. Everyone on the ship had fallen silent as they beheld this.

One swan was flapping his wings heading right towards me.

I reached out my hand… And he bent slightly, allowing me to touch his head, to stroke it.

Giving my fingers a gentle but affectionate nip, he flew off, the rest of the flock heading after him, to the utter amazement of the crew.

Then splashing noises were heard and our attention was pulled back to the water.

Several figures were emerging from the sea. Several, figures seemingly made with blue-green skin, as clear as the waters, but solidifying, like sea foam, adorned with pearls, seaweed and coral. They were stroking and clutching at the dolphins as if pets… Or friends.

Everyone on board the ship gasped, but I just stared entranced at their beauty. The people- maidens and males alike- smiled and laughed, waving to me.

Then a massive tidal wave streaked our way. The beings- must have been Maiar- leapt and swam out of the way as did the dolphins.

The tidal wave mounted higher and higher, cresting until something… Something like a smaller wave, or some foam sticking out, emerged from the water.

A form- a form that radiated more strength and power than I had ever imagined. A strong form, not unlike an elf, or what people in my first life would call 'humanoid' but still very… Different. The aura that surrounded the figure was powerful and otherworldly, and he looked different too. He wore clothes that shimmered and seemed to be the scales of a fish or sea silk, with ray fins from his collar. His skin was white as sea foam, his hair, blue-green like the wild waters. His eyes were such a deep and piercing blue that it seemed to stare deep into my soul.

Amil gasped and so did the others on board the ship. I was astounded. I knew this could only be a very powerful Maia.

And I could guess that this could only be-

"Lord Ossë." My grandfather breathed as everyone on board the ship bowed. But I couldn't tear my gaze away from him.

"Greetings, Elulindo Olwion." Ossë spoke, his voice rich and deep as the seas- though not as deep as Ulmo's, I supposed. The power and wild strength that emanated from his voice awed me.

"And Eärélen Telpelinda Elulindiel." He laughed. "And of course, this could only be…" He peered at me intently.

"This is my daughter, Eruvandë Estela Nelyafinwiel," Amil said, her voice shaking as she gestured to me.

There was a stunned silence. "So, this is the little gift promised by the Father." He murmured.

"I-" Amil froze. "You know of this?"

Ossë scoffed with amusement. "I hardly think that any of the Ainur- if they were not forsaken like Melkor- would not know of this little one's coming. I wondered why, though. Still, I was eager to meet her."

"As am I." Another voice appeared. A lady, glowing hazy-white like the moon or crushed pearl, rose from the waves. She wore a clinging gown of white, and her silvery hair, tinged with blue, was crowned in reddish coral and pearls, and trailed flowing and floating upon the surface of the water- no, it seemed to be the water itself, joined to the surface or one with it. I knew who this was.

"Lady Uinen." Amil whispered, curtsying again.

Uinen laughed, her eyes and smile were gentle.

"Now, there's no need for such formalities, Princess Eärélen." She teased gently. "And this is undoubtedly the little treasure."

I was too in awe to act all 'babyish'. "May I?" Uinen asked Amil. Amil blinked and seemed to rouse herself, stepping forwards and handing me to Uinen. The lady, despite looking very delicate, seemed solid and strong, not like sea foam, as she held me. Both Uinen and her husband peered down intently towards me.

"Welcome, Little Gift," she whispered. "May all our blessings be upon you, little treasure, for you may just be the one to save them all."

I froze in shock. Did she…

She knew. She must have.

Uinen handed me back to Amil, who took me back, still seemingly in a trance.

"Our blessings upon you and your family Eärélen Telpelinda," Uinen said solemnly.

"Indeed. Now why don't you enjoy the rest of the day," Ossë said, teasingly. "I'm not planning on making any storms… Not yet at least." His laughter resounded all around us, before the wave pushed forwards and they disappeared with the rest of the Maiar.

Leaving an astonished crew and family behind.

* * *

Amil and Grandfather tried to recover from this stunning… Revelation?

Anyway, Amil took me to gather gems and maybe shells in the rock pools, or the shallows of the sea, where we gathered them in massive scallop shell halves

Amil still held me at a sling on her hip- which was frustrating! But I was a baby and there was a chance I could cut myself or break a few fragile bones- I was still incredibly fragile.

But Amil did allow me to handle a few gems- that was because she knew that unlike most babies I did not have a tendency to stuff things in my mouth.

Atar was with us. Amil had been silent for a long time and I worried for her. I wasn't sure if she told Atar yet, but she might have.

Atar was looking around before he stopped suddenly. "Look at this," he said in wonder. Amil started and came over to where he was, carrying me all the while. There she leaned down and tried to pull the gem free. I strained to see it. Atar went to help her, and together they plucked a gem, dripping from the sea water, and raising it high into the air.

It was a ruby, the deepest, richest slightly pinkish or lavender, but mostly the deepest red, glinting with two stars from within.

Two eight-pointed stars of silver. The star of Fëanáro.

Amil gasped. "It's beautiful."

Then Atar glanced at Amil. It was clear, a wordless exchange was being delivered.

"Keep it safe." Amil spoke. Atar nodded.

What happened?

We went searching for more gems. Another time Atar found an emerald, with a silver star in its heart, Amil found sapphires and diamonds. Atar smirked and proudly showed her an amethyst, which was truly the most beautiful thing, and made her gasp again.

I could see the true, deep bond of love shared between my parents.

And you can't imagine how happy I was to see that.

In my first life. The reason I delved so deeply into books was to escape the turbulence and turmoil that surrounded their relationship and my home.

My second life, _their_ match had been purely political and though they were cordial and friendly, and worked together, they also entertained numerous others. I know they tried to hide it from us, but I knew anyway.

My third life was a marriage of convenience, like most noble pure-blood families.

My fourth they were just mates and were happy but not as happy nor did they share such a deep, strong and powerful bond as my parents now.

There was a difference between the elves of Alagaësia and those of Arda and Valinor. Not only was marriage practiced here, but elves found their soulmates and stayed together for eternity.

And based on what my father said, he had been looking for a long time, even longer than Tyelcormo who was currently entertaining Huan and himself, even as Telpe finally took an interest in what we were doing.

Tyelcormo. Could he ever find happiness? He had to! Before he and Lúthien spurred forth their doom!

I frantically prayed for help. I wondered if there were any Telerin maidens around here. Of course, plenty of them may be interested in Tyelcormo but would it last?

Finally, with Itarillë chirping around (goodness, how did anyone keep their wits about her?), we took our newly-discovered treasure and headed back home.


	5. Chapter 5

My first presentation to the Telerin Court concluded with me being presented to the Ñoldorin Court. Finwë was every bit as warm and affectionate as Olwë, and wanted me to return to Tirion with my parents. But something troubled me.

It was family. Family bothered me.

Tirion was breathtaking, so heartbreakingly beautiful as no city of humans could ever be.

The streets were wide and paved or kerbed with marble, and like Alqualondë, not a single scrap of rubbish or any filthy graffiti anywhere in sight. The buildings, the closer on got to the peak of the hill, were built of purest, polished white marble, but the closer you were to the outskirts of the city, the more the houses were built of golden, mellow stone. On these houses, vines and flowers were everywhere, it seemed; spilling from walls and rooftops, lining steps in pots, growing from window-boxes and barricades, and twining themselves around pillared archways. The flowers were present but not overly predominant; the closer you were to the city centre and the palace, but there were still there and the gems dominated. In the public and private gardens flowers grew in ornately shaped beds or simple lines, and trees lined avenues and boulevards. In the public courtyards, there were splendid tiered fountains in all shapes and sizes that sprayed crystal water and sculptures worthy of my Haruni and Haru.

Tirion was terraced, but it appeared completely natural, even the walls were not as much as for defence as for display. The waterfalls were like the ones that surrounded Alqualondë (Teleri are really attached to water, aren't they?) They seemed to blend both nature and artifice in such a degree of harmony that nothing appeared forced, yet was too beautiful to be true. I was dazzled. I saw the stairs made entirely of crystal- yes, crystal stairs and bridges too, hit with the light of Laurelin, and illuminated so that they seemed splashed with luminous colours spilling down below. They connected the city to various levels, but they weren't that long. No human would be too exhausted walking upwards. Elves certainly weren't.

So, this was Tirion. I glanced up and saw the palace and a glinting flash of silver told me that the Mindon Eldaliéva was there, though presently it did not need to be lit. I noticed that like the beach, glinting grains of diamond-dust sand could be glimpsed. This was every bit as beautiful as Alqualondë, but so very obviously a Ñoldorin city. There wasn't just beauty but practicality. The flowers and vines were never in the way of doorways and archways nor did they obscure windows. Animals could drink from certain fountains after a long journey and they were placed in convenient locations. There was more than artistry.

People got out from their houses and shops to see us pass, with eager eyes. Many of them whispered excitedly and gestured towards me though they were careful not to point. They were all focused on me.

Word must have spread about the Maiar, the dolphins and the swans. Of course, I nearly groaned.

I clutched Atar harder when he carried me up, because it almost felt like I was about to fall. How could crystal support us all, unless it was _diamond_ instead?

All these people craning their necks just to see us- or well, _me…_

It was unnerving. In my previous lives, I had never been in the centre of attention.

Well actually, I might have been on one or more occasions.

I mean I was betrothed to Daeron 'the Young Dragon' and courted by Vrael in my previous lives, but none of these relationships, ended in marriage or any form of mating, though they did put some attention on me. Yet these people… They weren't looking at me as if I was something to gossip and giggle excitedly about or sneer in derision at, they were beholding me with _awe._ And that had never happened before.

These people weren't looking at me because I was betrothed or in love with their most important leader- a king and the head Rider. No, they were gazing at me- as if… As if…

As if I could be the one to discover the island of Númenor. Or some fantastic supernatural thing which I was sure only the All-Father, Valar and Maiar could commit.

And here I was a just a baby.

Inwardly, I scowled, remembering my shrunken state. And how I would stay like that for five more decades! And even then, I would not reach my fullest height or be considered fully mature until fifty more years!

I squirmed in Atar's arms, and he shushed me, rocking me gently.

The massive golden doors swung open, and we were ushered towards the throne room. I gasped again, I couldn't help it. Even though Olwë's throne room was no less lovely, it was a different sight. The light was flush with the rosy glow of rubies or garnets, and yellow diamonds or topazes which covered the ceiling completely and pillars of pure, solid gold shaped like trees rose to meet them.

Amazing. Not even Ellesméra, Luthivíra with its crystals and Ilirea looked like this.

The doors swung shut and Finwë stood, on either side of him, proud, regal, majestic and impressive without meaning to, Fëanáro or Haru, and someone else.

A regal, beautiful lady who made me catch my breath. Her long hair, gently waving flowed down her back like Laurelin's light itself. Her skin was fair and flawless, a smooth creamy ivory and glowed. Even amongst the Eldar she was outstanding, and her richly-coloured sapphire eyes held only gentleness.

Indis. Indis the Fair, my step-great-grandmother, niece of Ingwë the High King and ruler of the Vanyar. I would have to be an idiot not to know who she was.

Fëanáro wasn't looking at his stepmother. Huh, so their relationship was not always… Well.

This time there was the unmistakable glint of pride and joy within those dark blue eyes if his. They were like a midsummer's night sky. The only thing was, that there were silver stars within them. Eight-pointed silver stars, shining and cutting through the darkness.

Was it any wonder that the Star of Fëanáro was the symbol for our House?

My father had the stars within his eyes too, but his eyes were emerald-green like mine. Macalaurë's eyes were silvery-blue, Tyelcormo's a lighter sky-blue, Carnistir's eyes were a warm amber, whereas Curufinwë's were steel-grey. The twins had hazel eyes, though one appeared more peridot green and the other jade.

The sons of Fëanáro were all different but they all had the eight-pointed stars within their eyes. They all took after their father in some way or another.

So, this was the legendary House of Finwë, I thought as Amil- now carrying me- and Atar made their way forwards in a slow, formal pace. I had always imagined what they were like. I never thought they could be like a family.

My Essecarmë had taken place in Valmar under the light of the Two Trees. A pity I didn't remember much of it. Part of having a baby's body meant I was more susceptible to exhaustion, even though I wasn't the one doing all the walking. It was ridiculous. And beyond irritating.

I just hoped I had plenty of time before Morgoth spoiled everything.

Could I save them all? Finwë? Fëanáro? Nolofinwë and Findekáno? Turukáno and Írissë? Elenwë? Everyone?

The Ñoldor, Teleri and Sindar? Could I save them?

I wasn't stupid and arrogant enough to think I could defeat Morgoth. Only the Valar had that power.

But I was interrupted from my thoughts as Finwë made his way forwards. His arms were held out in welcome and his smile was broad. I remembered Finwë from the Essecarmë. It was an interesting event, once I got over my tiredness. Usually the introduction ceremony is performed by the head of the House, but in this special case, my mother instead of only joining my father's house, is still a member of Olwë's family due to her status as the only child of the eldest child.

So, there were two kings performing my ceremony. Finwë was as tall as I remembered him, with raven-dark hair, and a regal, handsome face. He was undisputedly majestic, with his straight, imperious nose, strong jaw and only slightly full lips. His eyes were piercingly bright.

Fëanáro seemed to have blended his features with someone else's- that someone was undisputedly his mother, Míriel.

"Welcome," Finwë said warmly. Amil was holding me now and Atar stepped forwards and bowed- as was proper. Amil curtsied slightly.

"On this day, my grandson Nelyafinwë, firstborn of my eldest Fëanáro, has come to present the latest member born into this House, and his heir."

Heir, but thankfully, not likely that I would inherit.

"Her name is Eruvandë Estela Nelyafinwiel and today, we are proud to say that she joins us as a princess and a member of the House of Finwë and the Ñoldor."

Technically this should have been done right after my Essecarmë but since it had taken place at Valmar, and the presentation needed to be done on the home territory of the people the child belonged to, it had to be postponed- and done twice. Olwë had made a similar announcement a few days after my arrival in Alqualondë.

Cheers and applause surrounded us and Finwë smiled proudly, having taken me into his arms.

And so this was what it meant to be surrounded by family, their love and warmth. Well, it wasn't going to last.

* * *

Then we were surrounded by people who wished to congratulate and all the well-wishers in the world, it seemed.

One of the first was Nolofinwë. Who would have known.

"Russandol," he greeted Atar warmly. "Élen."

"Prince Nolofinwë," Amil murmured, smiling warmly just as Atar greeted: "Greetings Uncle."

"Congratulations, after so long, the All-Father has finally answered your prayers." He smiled down at me. "You are surely blessed."

"He did indeed, uncle." Atar agreed. "Though we did not expect the answer would be this…" He bounced me up and down. I giggled and cooed, playing the happy baby.

The sight was enough to make Nolofinwë's eyes soften. "She is extremely beautiful." He admitted. I should probably blush. From what I had read about Nolofinwë or Fingolfin, and heard of him, he did not give compliments out readily, though he was polite. "I pray that she finds happiness throughout her life."

"Násië." Atar and Amil both respond.

"Russandol and Élen." A lovely lady stood beside Nolofinwë. She had dark, softly waving hair and haunting grey-green eyes with fine features. Anairë, no doubt. "How very good it is to see you too- and with a little one of your own." She smiled kindly. "At long last Ilúvatar has answered your prayers. He may have been pleased with your devotion."

"Oh, we dare not presume to know the All-Father's mind." Amil said easily shifting me. Atar instead took me in his arms.

I cooed for the benefit of the audience. "I am sorry but Ereinion is currently in Valmar as of this moment." Anairë said apologetically. "As is his mother. Something to do with the family, though I know but little."

"I understand, Aunt." Atar said kindly. "Though I hope to see them soon. Do give my best wishes to all your family."

Nolofinwë nodded and Anairë did as well. They went off. The House of Finwë was indescribably large, I thought new crowd came in.

"Russandol!" A gold-haired elf with sparkling blue eyes grinned at my parents broadly. "My dearest nephew and niece with a baby of their own." He made a show of seeming to be astonished. "My, she is an exceptionally lovely one, is she not?"

The lady beside him laughed. Unlike her husband, Eärwen had hair like spun silver, skin like porcelain and a delicate, exquisitely shaped face. "Indeed. May I hold her?" Eärwen reached out her hands.

Amil smiled and gently handed me to her aunt. Well, I could see the resemblance between the two as well as with Artanis. Eärwen cooed, and fussed over me, smiling as I gurgled, but someone else approached.

Well, that was interesting.

Alright, so no one, including Fëanáro would ever presume to make a public show of familial disharmony. But somehow, something told me the relationship between my grandfather and his half-siblings, possibly his stepmother too, was not as cold as the books said. Not warm and friendly, but not downright hostile as people perceived- not so much the books like the Silmarillion, but the fanfictions.

This astonished me.

Surely the books did not exaggerate? Though you should ask, what are the chances of them all being extraordinary, this family? The sons of Fëanáro all were incredibly unique and legendary even before the Flight of the Ñoldor, Fëanáro being the most skilled and brilliant craftsman, inventing a writing system, flameless lanterns, the Palantíri and the most priceless of gems, but marrying a sculptress who could fool people into thinking that the statues were flesh and blood? All this sounded fantastical- maybe because it is, indeed fantasy.

But the books were meant by Tolkien to be written by Rúmil of Tirion, and I could understand if Rúmil treated them with an artistic license. I doubt Shakespeare would have written the _exact words_ that Antony and Cleopatra said to one another, and the last words of Richard III was in fact: _'Treason, treason, treason!'_ Not _'A horse, a horse! My kingdom for a horse!'_ But there were numerous confusions: the Silmarillion itself remained unpublished until after Tolkien's death. Some works after all stated Ereinion's father to be Findekáno and others Artaresto.

It struck me that I wasn't so certain of the future after all.

I could try to fix things only to mess things up. I could make it even worse than what it was before! I could seriously mess things up! And I didn't even know _how_ to begin!

Fortunately, the laughter and well-wishing is too far gone for anyone to notice my acting strange and quiet. Except for Amil. She flicked me a concerned glance, but I took no notice.

This was an impossible task.

I had never been born into a family that was facing Doom- literally. Dorne had been threatened, as was the House of Nymeros Martell, but we were in danger of extermination- plus, I had been offered the hand of the Targaryen King. And of course, I know about Voldemort. But I knew how the story would go for him and for my family. I also knew about the Fall of the Riders. I was so stupid.

To harness the sun all by myself would be infinitely easier.

 _Is that what you think?_

I froze. _Who said that?_

Whoever it was that spoke inside my mind didn't answer.

 _I don't like this,_ I thought, as I gazed uneasily at the crowd.

"What ails you, Little One?" Amil's voice nearly made me jump. She had been speaking animatedly with Artanis, her aunt Eärwen, and two ladies whom I didn't recognise. I should have been more aware of my surroundings.

"I think she's not used to such gatherings, she may be shy." A lady stated. She had hair like Indis and Arafinwë but slightly darker. There was an unmistakable resemblance between them but hints of Finwë's features shone through.

"Oh, Findis." Another lady rolled her eyes. "Are you speaking for the babe or for yourself?" Titters were heard as the lady- Findis- glared down at the obviously younger lady. She was very beautiful too and she either was Vanyarin by birth or had Vanyarin blood in her. In contrast to who appeared to be her sister, her hair was a lighter gold, rich and waving, and she had less solemn, and more light-hearted features. Despite the elves' immortality, it seemed that she was so obviously youthful and the most fresh-faced elf I had ever seen.

"Oh Lalwen." Anairë smiled. "But you were always so outgoing and courageous."

 _Lalwen?!_ That name seemed equally, bewilderingly familiar to me.

"Oh, please." Lalwen pretended to pout. She held out her arms. "May I at least hold my own grand-niece?"

Wait, what?! I assumed these ladies were the relatives of Indis based on their looks. Unless they came from Nerdanel's side of the family, or my mother's however, surely…

"Of course," Amil said, passing me once again to- my apparent- great-aunt.

No…

Indis. Finwë! His features were there as well! Damn it! I didn't read the whole of Tolkien's books (more like skimmed the internet to find pieces of information that eluded me) but in the Silmarillion, they made absolutely no mention of _daughters!_

Although they did in his other works.

Confound it all! Rúmil must have left those princesses out for a reason! The elves- in Alagaësia and in Eä- considered both males and females equal, unlike many humans. There was no way they should be overlooked.

But then… Why was Arafinwë declared High King of the Ñoldor in Valinor once Fëanáro left with Nolofinwë to Middle-Earth? What happened to his elder sisters?

"I should probably get back." Findis grumbled. "My husband-" she shook her head. "We shall have to return to Valmar, three days hence."

"How are your children, Findis?" Eärwen asked suddenly. "They are all well, and thriving under the Light of the Trees." Findis said smoothly. "We left a few days ago, but we intended to stay for a few days in Tirion. It is good to be back- Valmar is unimaginably lovely, of course, truly magnificent but I grew up here." She looked around the hall wistfully.

"Yes well, you did make the choice to be as one with the Vanyar," Lalwen said snippily. "You could have taken a Ñoldo," she said with a droll eyeroll, "Or you could get your husband to move here. But alas, my sweet older sister had to leave our House and lands" There lay my answer.

"He could never leave Valmar." Findis said with an eyeroll of her own. "And I made my choice. Besides, there is Fëanáro with his unheard-of, magnificent brood of seven sons and countless grandchildren, and Nolofinwë and his brood-" she nodded to Anairë. "And you and Arafinwë and his wonderful offspring." She smiled at Eärwen. "And besides, _you_ have yet to wed." She said to Lalwen.

Lalwen sighed. "I find it… Difficult to be tied down." You and me both, _Grand-Aunt._

"I thought it might feel that way when I got married." Amil said abruptly. "But it didn't. It feels not only natural but wonderful."

"Perhaps," Lalwen sipped her drink. "But maybe I have yet to find the right one."

So Findis married a Vanyarin and moved to Valmar. He must have been older than her, I thought, otherwise, her offspring might have been listed as members of the House of Finwë. But they lived in Valmar. After her father's death, she must have taken her mother back to live there.

Lalwen, on the other hand… I think a few canon sources mentioned she went with Nolofinwë and may have perished on the Helcaraxë. Another said that she went because she was betrothed to someone, but eventually decided to go back.

This _infuriated_ me. How in the world am I supposed to save the ones I love, if I what I knew from them left out so much?! How do I not mess anything up?

While I make no illusions that Fëanáro may have resented his stepmother's arrival into his and his father's lives, I could easily glance over my shoulder and see him laughing uproariously at some joke Arafinwë made. I don't think anyone remembered that- they only remember he moved outside of Tirion with his wife and family to get away from his stepfamily (and all the awkwardness involved).

I could sigh. This was impossible. I thought we were going to see the Valar anyway? I couldn't speak that well yet but I would be able to show my thoughts.

The anger, frustration, desperation and everything grew too much to handle. I squeezed my eyes shut and I wanted to scream. But I didn't.

Instead something else happened.

The celebrations were interrupted with a _BANG!_ Everybody jumped and started at the sound. Smoke billowed out and the smell of burnt charcoal and wood was in the air.

Finwë frowned as someone came rushing in as quick as he came.

"What is it, my friend?" He asked, frowning. "What has happened?"

"Forgive me, Majesty." The _ner_ bowed.

"Something went wrong in the kitchens."

Fëanáro's eyebrows arched, and Finwë looked puzzled. "The ovens all exploded. The stoves as well. We did not know what happened- it was lucky that all the food was already on the way to being served." And I could see just how relieved he was when he admitted that.

"Was anyone hurt?" Finwë asked quickly.

"No Majesty." His eyebrows scrunched together. "Although I am bewildered as to why such a thing has happened." Fëanáro scowled. "The ovens and stoves should not be dangerous." He said dubiously. "What did you see?"

"We were placing the food on the tables, my lord." Came the reply. "And some of us were simply on the way to the wine cellars when out of the blue, everything exploded. There were no fires lit- we made certain of this, always before we left."

I froze. Oh, snap. It was me, wasn't it? I should have realised this. I was so distressed and confused, upset and frustrated… I did accidental magic.

Accidental magic made my dolls and stuffed bears float and re-enact amusing scenes in my third life, it saved me from falling from broomsticks and in my fourth life that was how I learned to channel and harness my powers. I should have remembered! The younger a person was, the less control they had over their magic- they would find it difficult to channel and use it at first, as it was strongly tied to their emotions. The older and more experienced they became, the easier it was to control them. That was how young Riders were first taught to summon their abilities: they were ordered to pile stones using only their feet or fill ever-draining sieves of water until they became frustrated enough and that was when their magic was unleashed.

So, I had powers in this life too, I thought grimly.

Amil rocked me. Fëanáro spoke: "I should like, if it does not hinder anyone, to retreat to the kitchens, move everyone there to safety and see the damage done."

"By all means," Finwë replied. "No one is to enter the kitchens unless everything is deemed safe." He got up and went with Haru and the one who brought the news to them- a steward by the looks of things. They hurried away to inspect the damage.

* * *

I was beginning to hate my dreams.

I heard screams, shrieks of terror and horror, desperation and fear.

I could see Oromë speaking to three of them, his aura of strength and power unmatched.

This was when I could see some begin to drift apart from their own kin. But it wasn't just fear that motivated them, they gazed at the forests, rivers, lakes and other features of Middle-Earth with a wistful longing.

Though others shared the same sentimental feeling, nevertheless, they were desperate. Another thing I could tell: people were beginning to disappear.

And this was when I saw the War the Ainur waged against Melkor.

Shadows were creeping through the darkness of the wood- no, running. Running stealthily and speedily through them.

The shrill screams were horrific to hear. Those that had not made up their mind, grew even more frantic and desperate to go to Valinor- they would take their chances!

I could see husbands and wives cling to each other frantically, parents clutching their children as close and as tightly to them as they dared, eyes darting around, terrified, no doubt.

I saw the Valar and their ranks of Maiar charging at Melkor cutting down wave after wave of orcs, trolls and other foul creatures. To my immense relief, the Ainur appeared to be winning. Melkor screamed in rage- a dark shadow blurring the horizon and terrifying me worse than anything I had seen in my previous lives (with a jolt I realised it was some time since I last thought of them- normally I would still be brooding).

He retreated to Utumno. I could see the waters rushing wildly, the earth shaking violently, groaning and creaking as though to break and there were lights, bright as flaming volcanoes firing lava.

The elves were terrified.

Utumno was sealed. They battered at his gates. The sea widened, a bay was carved out and new mountain ranges rose to the sky.

And then they broke inside the fortress.

There was less than a second of shock for both Manwë and Melkor. Manwë because he expected Melkor to be so overwhelmingly strong and powerful, that it would have been almost impossible to defeat him. But Melkor must have given a great deal of his energy into his minions, letting _them_ do all the dirty work.

Melkor because he never would have guessed that the Ainur could have broken through. But they had no time to waste. Melkor struck the first blow only to be blocked and tacked by Tulkas, the two of them wrestling. Aulë swung a chain. It looked green and red, the colours mixing and mingling together into an alloy.

I didn't know the name of the alloy but-

 _Tilkal_. A voice whispered inside my mind. I froze. _The alloy is tilkal._

What in the world was that?!

But I was distracted when Tulkas swung the chain. Angainor caught Melkor by the ankles and again by his arms. In no time, Melkor was howling, crying for mercy. I gawked, stunned. I didn't think he was capable of that.

They brought him to Taniquentil, to be judged by the Máhanaxar- the Ring of Doom.

* * *

I knew my dreams were following a predictable pattern. I was learning more and more about the history of the elves, but it wasn't always specific. Sure, I was there, but I might as well read about these events from any history book.

Time passed. My father was carefully coaching me in regards to my speech. My teeth were coming in more and more and I allowed myself to speak more and more words, both in Lindalambë and Ñoldorin Quenya. My parents knew the importance of learning through play. For some parts of the day, especially during the daylight hours, I did not play with my toys. Instead, my parents sought to encourage me to play my own games, and to join in the fun whenever they could. These games involved things like exploring the gardens, tracking or even simply Amil issuing me the challenge to sort and stack piles of books and papers in colour, size or alphabetical order. They began teaching me the alphabet through play and song, like nursery rhymes.

This was a sharp contrast in my previous lives. In my first three worlds we had the same alphabet, in Alagaësia I used the Liduen Kvaedhí, with more than a thousand glyphs and only forty-two basic components which could be rearranged depending on the context of the words and sentences. Glyphs could be combined to make the various sounds of the Ancient Language or they can be used to form sentences, phrases and large parts of writing. In that world that was the most beautiful and precise form of writing, and I was stunned that my grandfather could outmatch that flawlessly, whereas the poetic script of the Ancient Language must have taken generations and hundreds, if not thousands of years to perfect.

In Arda we primarily used the Tengwar my grandfather had invented. Elves have an excellent memory that surpassed those of mortals so they didn't really see the need for writing for quite some time. And then

Rúmil invented his Sarati, but though people were pleased at its use in messages but it had no place in the everyday life of the Eldar- or at least only with the Ñoldor. Vanyarin Quenya was not so easily transcribed and Telerin Lindalambë almost impossible. Fëanáro had changed all that. His Tengwar was groundbreaking, revolutionary.

I had to keep an open mind learning the Tengwar. In previous lives when I thought of things, I did it in English or 'the Common Tongue' and being reborn as an elf for the first time, I still thought of writings and spellings in the Latin Alphabet, with its consonants and vowels and all the various grammar rules. That had to change.

I often ground my teeth and stubbornly concentrated on the scraps of writing Atar set out before me, to his amusement. My father and grandfather had made what I jokingly referred to in secret as 'elvish horn books' or horn plate readers for me to practice my writing with ease. There were also children's books, similar to the baby books of my first and third life. It might have been too early for someone who had yet to reach their first year mark for humans and dwarves but for elves it was the right time for beginnings.

"She seems to be developing extremely well," I heard Atar speak to Haru. "Unlike my brothers, nephews, Ereinion and anyone else I have taught, she at least seems to grasp the purpose of these letters. Every other child starts off thinking that they are a curiosity but nothing which will serve an important purpose in everyday life."

Fëanáro nodded satisfied. "She struggles still at times, but her level of attention and focus..." I could hear my father muse. "Remarkable." He admitted, sounding astonished.

Well, best to leave it that way. At some point in time, if I wanted to save them, they had to start believing that I had some extraordinary skill and could be trusted and relied on. I had the knowledge of numerous lifetimes at my disposal, and the teachings of this family, but I had yet to practice my magic.

My first begetting day anniversary was celebrated with a great feast. I was astounded at the sheer level of it. There weren't many children on Valinor that could boast such illustrious names for close kindred and therefore, everyone wanted to get an invite- and see the child.

If there was another thing that Amil loved as much as her garden, dance, sailing, sea-life and song, it was the art of cooking. In all honesty, it was no wonder that Amil was Fëanáro's favourite daughter-in-law, even above Curufinwë and Carnistir's Ñoldorin spouses. She had not been born amongst the Ñoldor but she lived and fully embraced their customs, culture and way of life, while at the same time, refusing to relinquish her own. It certainly endeared her to the countless Ñoldor that she lived like them and sought to befriend them, admired their works and yet fought to have recognition of her own. The Ñoldor burned with a flame within their spirits, none brighter than my grandfather himself, they find pride in the accomplishments and merits of individuals. This was a meritocratic society. You would never be given great acknowledgement for your ancestry alone- you have to prove yourself.

No wonder we were all proud.

I had to prove myself- the Ñoldor were a proud people, they would not listen to me unless...

Unless what? Fëanáro himself was not always such a controversial figure. In fact, right now, he was downright popular. There was a reason why his sons and his people all followed him, in spite of the dysfunctional family.

Was it dysfunctional in the way humans perceive it, though? I don't think so.

Morgoth knew Fëanáro's weaknesses- he knew the weakness of every elf in Arda. Stealing the Silmarils was a diabolical stroke of genius. Getting Fëanáro to turn against anyone that he might have deemed responsible for his father's death and anyone that stood in his way... In more ways than one, I was disgusted not just at the actions of the Fëanárions and Morgoth alone but countless others: Thingol, the dwarves that killed him, Lúthien and Beren, Dior, Elwing- shiny rocks, no matter how much beauty they held, were not worth irreplaceable flesh and blood! The madness of grief, yes I understood that. But slaughtering countless innocents? Risking lives for those three gems, or even at least one of them? Refusing to give them up even when you know the price for that is blood? Taking it and throwing yourself into the sea and leaving your own sons behind to be captured, and risk being killed?

It filled me with disgust.

But disgust and plans would have to wait. Atar, my uncles and a few attendants had brought out large feasting tables and covered them with tablecloths. Flowers on vines or potted blooms were arranged just so, in lovely backgrounds and patterns. We were in a richly wooded area, so it already looked like a fairytale. You could almost expect Sleeping Beauty or Snow White with their woodland friends to come dancing through, birds twittering around them.

The apprentices and attendants put up intricately craved arches hung with fragrant blossoms like wisteria, cherry blossom or anything native to Valinor, purple and white garlands twining around the arches, and blossoms like white light or snowflakes hanging down to brush your hair. What really gave it an otherwordly glow that stopped your breath were the lights. Like Lothlórien in the films, it was the lights, the Fëanárian lanterns that made the whole area shine with silver-blue and white lights reflected in pools of clear water around the place.

I heard someone talking excitedly in the background and heaved a mental sigh. Itarillë. Still on a permanent sugar rush, the future mother of Eärendil, I thought.

I smirked. I hoped that Tuor was just as hyper.

People were chatting excitedly. I had been whisked away by Artanis and dressed in a new gown, specially made for this occassion, and the feast was brought- large trays, platters and dishes of vegetables, meat, fowl and fish, as well as the desserts, all spit-roasted, grilled, baked, boiled and fried. Amil, Haruni, Eärwen, Anairë and some of my aunts had been planning for this feast. Although people volunteered to cook and assist, Amil felt it was necessary to do most of the cooking herself- she enjoyed it enormously anyway.

The party began.

Grandfather Elulindo and Grandmother Eärlinda were among the first to embrace me, peppering me with kisses and crushing hugs. Unlike Fëanáro they had one grandchild, so this was understandable. But two guests caught my attention and made me gasp.

Two Valar. They both radiated so much power I could feel waves of them humming in the air particles and seeping into my skin, flesh, bones and blood. I could hear my heart thunder, the blood roaring in my veins. It was a different sort of power, and though they took a 'humanoid' appearance, you would never mistake either of them for elves or humans.

The Vala was tall and more built than any elf. His hair was brown like the rich earth, the fur of a deer and the wood from trees, touched with gold like Laurelin sunlight. He was more built than any elf or man, muscular and undoubtedly strong, yet lean, confident and graceful in poise, more radiant energy emanating from not only his very being, but the very place he stood at.

Then I saw the hunting horn at his belt, and knew this could only be Oromë.

From behind him emerged the Valië. Her aura radiated a softer, gentler light, peace and serenity. Golden light seemed to shine from her very being. She was slender and graceful, and though you would think that everything about her looked youthful, almost like a human teenager, and her very light seemed to touch my _soul._

She was fair-skinned, her skin flawless and completely unblemished, but the light throughout made her seem strangely both ancient and yet far-younger than a newborn infant. There was a youthful cheerfulness, and a glow of such young innocence yet ancient wisdom everywhere about her. Her hair was as golden as Laurelin, as gold as Artanis'. Her soft, gentle serenity, that glow everything was as powerful as her husband's albeit in a different manner. To say that this person was an elf or a human would be to call a drop of water a raging river or Ekkaia itself. Thick flower garlands were in her hair, trailing down the gentle waves that flowed past her feet and skimmed her bare feet.

Vána the Ever-Young smiled graciously as everyone instantly stood, not merely in awe, but joy. While the Valar were the object of prayers and fearful awe in Middle-Earth, in Valinor they were _there._

"My lord, my lady." Atar, Amil and my aunts, uncles and grandparents all bowed. Oromë bowed in return, hand over his heart as did Vána, smiling sweetly.

"Greetings to you Nelyafinwë and Eärélen ,prince and princess of the House of Finwë and Olwë." Oromë's voice was as rich, strong, untameable and wild as the world itself, its trees, mountains, forests, rivers and lakes. His eyes were an ever-changing shade of,green, like the richest leaves of many trees, darkening or lightening every now and then, reminding me of wind blowing through the forests. "And to your kin. Most of all, a very happy begetting day for the little gift. May she be blessed for all her life."

"Násië." Vána smiled. Her smile only grew as Artanis approached carrying me in her arms. Oromë and Vána's eyes were fixed entirely on me and seemed to stare right into my heart and soul.

 _Welcome Little Gift of the Father,_ I heard a rich, strong voice say in my mind. I froze. I wasn't even aware- unlike all the previous times in all my lives- that someone was speaking in my mind. _We finally meet at last._

* * *

Grandfather Elulindo and Grandmother Eärlinda were chatting away, while I was being held by Grandmother but my attention was focused solely on the Valar.

Tyelcormo was eagerly relating to Oromë the adventures he and Huan had gotten up to and Oromë was laughing uproariously to their tales and Huan's excited, eager expression.

Amil and Vána were smiling and conversing with one another, whilst more Valar came.

The next Vala to arrive was a tall, even more powerfully-built Vala with a ruddy-tinge on his fair skin, who radiated a dangerous, powerful aura, deadly, lethal, challenging and unpredictable. I could almost see the golden glow all around him, when I narrowed my eyes, but when I opened them again, there was nothing. Just his strength. I doubt that even Hercules could have been built as he was. He had a wide grin and a loud, boisterously infectious laugh. His thick hair and beard were a glossy golden sheen.

Tulkas, I thought wonderingly. The elves of Arda in later days would probably never imagine this: walking, laughing and socialising or being taught by the Ainur, the Valar themselves. Most of them wouldn't even know that Gandalf was a Maia!

Otherwise they wouldn't have disregarded Gandalf's advice in the Hobbit so readily.

Or maybe that was just the movies?

Tulkas was accompanied by a Valië. All around her was an aura of light and laughter, sunshine or Laurelin's light dancing and bouncing off trees, laughing merrily, trees and flowers dancing gaily in the breeze. Deer skipping and lambs. Sweetness, joy, Laurelin, laughter and unsurpassed, luminous radiance shining and bounding all around, filling us up everywhere. Her hair was long and silky, though it was hard to tell if it was golden or brown, it kept shifting and changing. As did her eyes: I couldn't tell if they were forest green, like Oromë's, her brother's or brown like the rich, rich earth or wood.

Her smile was sweet, and small blossoms starred her hair. Her figure was slender, willowy and light, quick-footed and graceful, like a dancer's- which she was. She wore no shoes on her feet and her dress was cut at the ankles. Every movement she made was so liquid, she glided and floated without meaning to, she danced without knowing, every twitch in her arms and hands, the way she turned her head... She was a dancer. Any idiot could tell. Yet no one could dance like her. No one.

Nessa laughed sweetly as Tyelcormo and Huan related more tales towards her. By now guests were arriving in multitudes. Finwë had arrived with Indis, Mahtan and Istarnië, yet the Telerin royal house was not completely there.

It took some time for them to arrive, but then the party began and everyone was enjoying themselves. I was passed from one pair of hands to another. When the music played, everyone began dancing toting me along. I barely managed to blink. When did this happen?

When my Telerin great-grandparents arrived, it was to the sound of applause. Olwë immediately swept me up in his arms and I let out shrieks of glee. This was never feigned.

This whole time I felt I was home. I felt like among family.

Don't misunderstand me. I was rarely unloved in my previous lives. I was proud to be a Martell, a Greengrass, a Stewart, a member of the House of Miolandra. But though I wasn't unloved, I was mostly left to my own devices. Alone. I had 'House Elves' taking care of me, while my father and mother worked and increased the family fortune, went to the office, ruled the kingdom of Dorne, or ran a lot of things in Du Weldenvarden while siblings ran off either following the same things, going to school, or becoming Riders.

Here they still had a number of things- but they were all family, and everything seemed to revolve around... Me.

Not that it did. But my parents made it seem that way. And that was perhaps strange to me, but oddly comforting and welcoming.

I never did have a start like this. But I knew what was going to happen-

A nudge startled me.

One of my aunts had me (seriously, I had yet to tell which one was which, though I knew that Macalaurë's wife was a silver-haired Teler, like my mother) and passed me, and I found myself face to face with a Vala, his aura slamming into me, filling and surrounding me completely.

Seriously, what was with these Valar and their auras?

This one was wide-reaching, deep, powerful and enveloped all the corners of the earth, that's what it felt to me.

His eyes were bluer than the skies, bluer than sapphires, and his hair was... well, it seemed golden like Laurelin's light, but turning silvery with a strong presence of blue, like Telperion and the sky. The blue of his eyes were all I could see, bluer than anything I had ever thought possible or imagined. His features were noble and fair, even more so than the statues my grandmother carved.

Manwë Súlimo King of the Ainur upon Middle Earth. And with him, a lady- a Valië whose beauty and loveliness beyond living hearts and all limits. So gracious, majestic, and yet ever-so compassionate, I could feel it in the air all around her. Benevolence and gentle, kind light. Her hair was of the deepest midnight-black, blacker than the hair of many of the Ñoldor had, but also blue-black, flashing with a lovely, luminous Prussian blue, or the blue of bioluminescence. She wore a gown and robe of stars- not embroidered stars, or dyed, but real _true_ stars. The whole cosmos of Eä dwelt within her robes; whole shining constellations and glowing nebulae, swimming in the 'fabric', if it could even be called fabric. They were _living_ and _moving_ within her clothes. She wore a diadem of stars and nebulae upon her brow and her eyes were burning stars themselves.

"Welcome Little Gift of the Father," Manwë murmured. His voice was strong and seemed to echo from all around me.

"We have waited for you."

All around me I heard everyone and everything fall silent. When did that happen?

Manwë smiled. _Hello, little Hope. You have been foretold._

He knew about me?!

 _We all knew. We sensed your presence the minute your fëa itself entered Eä._ _Ilúvatar himself warned us you were coming. A chance to save, a hope for those who have none._

Suddenly a burst of visions came forth, like my dreams, whereupon I could see clearly:

I saw... My father.

He was standing surrounded by the other Valar. The power in their appearances, barely constrained, auras and more, filled the entire space that it was a wonder that the room itself did not burst along with all of Eä.

I was frankly astounded at his courage at simply being there, much less standing before them, and not cowering into a little ball, as I wanted to do- and it was just a vision.

"For decades now we have been married." Atar spoke, beseechingly to the Ainur. "Yet as my brothers themselves and our kin marry and beget offspring, we are childless. Our hearts and arms empty save for each other. We long nothing more than for a child, any child, male or female."

The Valar regarded him in silence.

Atar pressed on: "We have prayed to the All-Father. We have striven to be the best in hearts and deeds. We are not alone in this; other Eldar are begetting less and less each year whether they be of the Ñoldor, Vanyar or Teleri. Fewer and fewer children have been brought into Arda for the past four decades and we are wondering why."

One of them- I did not see which one- spoke after a long, hesitating silence: "Indeed, Nelyafinwë. This we are aware: the cries of those longing to be mothers and fathers, whose pain strikes desperately within their hearts cannot be stifled, nor ignored. But little there is that we Valar may do. For you are Eldar and your fates have been written within the stars under which you were born. The price of your immortality, knowledge, fairness and wisdom is a cost which cannot be forgotten. And this is the price, for now the Eldar are passing the youth of their days, the youth which saw your father, Curufinwë Fëanáro begotten along with his brothers and their sons, which include you. But now the winds of change are upon you, and the Eldar are beginning to lose the youth which they have grown accustomed to. Fewer and fewer children will be born every age and century, as is the price of immortality."

I could see my father despairing. His eyes were still pleading desperately.

"But for this... We may yet have hope."

Atar's eyes flashed to the speaker- I still did not know which Vala this was, only the speaker was definitely male.

"Give us time, son of Fëanáro, you shall have your answer by the next night when Telperion waxes to its fullest.

The scene changed and I saw my Atar standing within the circle of the Máhanaxar, the Ring of Doom.

I couldn't describe the look on his face: desperation, hope, fear.

The same speaker spoke: "The Promise of the All-Father is given and it is thus: that come the next year when Telperion glistens and gleams the most, your child shall be born outside the cities of the Ñoldor and Teleri. Hope she is, and hope she shall be for those who have none- but more than you know. For gifts she shall be given, and the All-Father has seen into the light of your fates, and sought to lift you from such horrors and tragedy. Your destinies and fates still lie written within the stars but listen to her words, her wisdom, and the dark may be lessened, though it may not be stayed. She shall grow great and glorious and beautiful, even in comparison to the Two Trees of Valinor, but beware, Nelyafinwë: there is always a price. This, is the Promise of Eru Ilúvatar."

And suddenly I was back in Manwë's arms once more.

And he gave me a knowing look.

Of course. _Of_ course!

* * *

The feast passed without a glitch, yet for my first begetting day while people whispered excitedly about the Valar's presence- every single one, even Ulmo- at this event.

All the Valar. And I knew they were whispering, wondering what this meant. Of course they could simply be here out of courtesy for Fëanáro and Nerdanel, Finwë and Olwë and their respective kin. But never more than a few at a time, unless it was during one of the Eldar's most holy feast days.

And this was a begetting day.

It was after most of the guests had gone and Atar and Amil had set me to sleep that I had a dream- unlike the ones I had before.

* * *

Everything was light. I walked down a mysterious garden path, a lane.

As I walked along its paths, I noticed several things: one, I was going about as if walking with ease and familiarity in my previous lives, even though I very well was not familiar with this lane at all, with its deep banks and great overhanging hedges. And the trees that lined the path, like the _Yellow Brick Road_ in Oz, seemed to rustle, even though they did not move and there was no breeze. They rustled as if...

Whispers, I thought. I could hear voices whispering and murmuring. Countless, indecipherable voices, male and female, old and young, voices of humans, elves, dwarves and more. And worms- _glow_ -worms. I noted, recoiling in astonishment. Giant ones. I hurried along.

Another thing I noticed was that I was not walking as I used to but... Was I floating? Why was everything so warm, so comfortable, despite such an unfamiliar place?

It was dusk. I strained to see the edge of the path I was set on. There was a gate, I noted in astonishment. A gate of lattice-work, shining golden in the dusk (was it dusk?).

Frowning, I reached for it, only for the thing to swing open of its own accord.

And everything disappeared in a flash of gold light.

"What the-" I muttered. This wasn't like my other dreams! What the heck was going on?

"Come child." A voice that I had heard during my begetting day celebrations sounded.

"Wha-" I spun wildly, only to freeze. There, robed in blue, with eyes bluer than anything I had ever seen, smiling down at me, was Manwë Súlimo, Lord of the Breath of Arda, King of the Ainur and the Valar upon Arda.

"Welcome, Nelyafinwiel." He smiled. "So at last you have walked the Olórë Mallë, the Path of Dreams. Here, only here, shall the souls of mortals and Eldar alike, shall gaze and walk within the gardens of Irmo in Lórien. As of now, so shall you. They have named you Eruvandë Estela- a fitting name. The Promise of Eru, your father called you, and Hope according to your mother."

I opened my mouth, but found myself speechless.

"Why am I here?" I finally managed. "Why is this happening?" I tried not to cringe at my childish voice.

He chuckled gently. But then his face turned sad. "You wish to know why you have been born again and again?"

"And in many different worlds," I pointed. "In worlds which are _purely_ fiction in my first life. First I ended up in Dorne on the tip of Westeros, a Martell princess and the bride-to-be of a Targaryen king, secondly I ended up being a student at Hogwarts and the daughter of a pure-blood family, thirdly, I was born an elf in Ellesméra, a member of House Miolandra, before I became a healer to the Riders on Vroengard and Ilirea."

Manwë nodded gravely. "Yes. I know."

"But how?" I almost demanded (but refrained from doing so- this was the king of the Ainur upon Arda, I wasn't _that_ insane). "And these worlds... They're supposed to be fiction!"

Manwë cocked an eyebrow. "Are you sure about that?" He asked quietly.

I froze. "What?" I choked. "How?"

"You were quite the voracious reader in your first life," Manwë- King of the _Valar_ \- replied thoughtfully.

"Wait a second- how did J.R.R Tolkien-" I choked out.

"He didn't create this world. Eru Ilúvatar, as he is known to elves, dwarves and men- or at least will be known to them someday when they wake- or Allah, Yahweh Elohim, or simply God did. Every single dimension, every single universe including Eä."

"Then how did someone from England, know about it? A certain J.R.R Tolkien?" I pressed, trying to keep my patience. "Or a certain Christopher Paolini, George R.R Martin, J.K Rowling and- who else did I miss?"

"None," The king of the Valar was chortling in amusement again. "But the reason for this is that some people, such as your favourite authors, are simply more attuned to the cosmos, and the tapestry of fate more than anyone else."

I blinked. "Some not all, are able to tap lightly or delve deeply into the various universes. Sometimes, it is when they sleep. Othertimes, they are fully awake, washing, cleaning, mending fabric, various things like that. Or the images simply appear to them in the train station, much like J.R Rowling and Walt Disney among others." He laughed at that. My eyes bugged at the realisation; heck, even _that_ was real.

Mickey Mouse existed.

Either that or he was taking the Mickey out of me (I know, it's a _terrible_ pun).

"So am I the only one?" I asked. "If so, why me?" Then I turned bitter. I looked up at him, trying to stifle my tears. "I tried and I failed! Numerous times!"

I once thought to save Daeron Targaryen, and prevent a Blackfyre Rebellion, the Tragedy of Summerhall, the War of the Usurper and the War of the Five Kings, but instead I ended up dead, felled by a poisoned arrow meant for Daeron the Young Dragon. And two worlds later, I even managed to die before Vrael and failed to prevent a fall."

I looked at him. "I am the last person who is able to save them." I said bitterly. "I was a failure. I tried and I failed. So why me?"

"Alas, we can never truly understand the workings of Eru Ilúvatar." Manwë sighed, looking at me with gentle, sad understanding in his eyes.

"You know what is going to happen," I insisted. "If you've seen it all, you know."

Manwë shook his head once more.

"There are layers within layers of many," he said enigmatically. "Layers within layers of a single universe, which itself, is numbered among thousands, or more accurately millions.

"Realities and dimensions," He explained, seeing my befuddled look. "Think, Estela. The published Silmarillion seems to contradict itself.

"The book you read in your first life was one version among many. The great genius who saw these realities and wrote them down, saw many versions and realities, and as a result, never finished it the way he did the Lord of the Rings or the Hobbit. You yourself had rarely heard of Findis or Lalwendë until you beheld them with your own eyes. And even then there were countless realities and versions, waiting to be explored. Some versions this incredibly remarkable being wrote down: the ones you were familiar with. But some details may blur, and there are realities waiting to be finished and explored.

"Perhaps you may save your father, your mother, uncles and cousins," Manwë remarked thoughtfully. "In some worlds, the sons of Fëanáro were slain by Melkor in Formenos." He and I both winced simultaneously.

"In some, Maitimo himself was slain before being remade in the gardens of Lórien. He was never bound by the oath of his father and brothers, and thus never committed the kinslayings in Alqualondë, Doriath or Sirion. At one reality in the very least, your uncle Macalaurë in the aftermath of the War of Wrath woke from his slumber at his house in Tirion to find his brothers alive and well and his wife with him at last. Thus he was never subject to the sad and lonely fate he suffered in some versions."

"But this does not mean that I will succeed." I said bitterly. Manwë's eyebrows shot up.

"Child, if you have learnt nothing from your past, then I will be very surprised." He stated bluntly. "In Westeros and Alagaësia, did you even try?"

I gaped at him, aghast.

"You threw yourself in front of the Targaryen king only to have him struck by a second arrow. You were still in Dorne. This was not a safe place for a conqueror. You died before the Fall of the Riders even truly began."

"Galbatorix killed me," I mumbled, flushing. "And yet you knew you could not stop him," Manwë said firmly. "At least not in such a way. Think, Estela. In order to win, then you must know your enemy."

I was sullen but silent. And yet, I recognised the truth of his words, only an idiot wouldn't. Of course, I was such a fool!

"Use your gifts, Estela."

"What gifts?"

"Think. What have you seen in your dreams?"

I paused. "The past," I said, reluctantly. "Perhaps you have yet to see what comes after." He smiled at me.

I blinked. "Wait just a minute," I began. "Are you, perhaps, saying that..." I trailed off.

Manwë sounded a large, booming laugh. "You do know of your cousin Artanis, or Galadriel, do you not? And of your kinsman Elrond?"

I gasped. "The _sight?"_

Manwë laughed again. "They'll never believe me," I said dubiously. "Even if I do have the Sight, they'll think me possessed or in league with the Dark Lords."

Manwë sobered and he looked at me gravely.

"Then give them reason not to," he said, almost silently, but somehow, still very clearly. "Think, Estela."

He was right. I was thoughtless and careless before. And now... Now, when I am myself, Eruvandë Estela Nelyafinwiel... I had a _world,_ I had my friends, and most importantly, I had my _family_ now...

It was a whole new world, a whole new life. A fresh, new and brand-new, brilliant start for me. I had everything to lose, even more than what I had before.

"Two more things," I began again. "Each universe's brand of magic is different from anything before. Yet some things are similar. As it was I barely managed to figure out how to create that blood-replenishing and other potions to heal the Riders and Dragons. And depleting my sources of energy? Having to store it to battle Sauron and Morgoth- oh, by the way, is there a chance of you not releasing Melkor?" I asked hopefully.

Manwë shook his head. "Not a chance," he said slowly, sadly. "With each passing day, he grows in strength. The more ages he remains chained with Angainor, the more he grows stronger. Already he was the mightiest and most unrestrained of the Ainur. If he is to be left as it is, he will break free. And by then we would be powerless to stop him."

I restrained the urge to curse.

"As for your magic... You know how. You only need to seek the answers. As to your other _unspoken_ question, how to use the Sight... Well," he smiled sadly. "You only need to look. You only need to remember. You dreamt of the past did you not?"

"Are you saying that if I want to see the future I'll have to dream it?" I asked, sceptically. That didn't sound very helpful. If I wanted to look for a specific _some_ thing...

"Do elves sleep?" Manwë asked suddenly. I started in surprise.

"Of course they do," I responded. "Just... Not in the way humans do, I suppose."

"Waking dreams, as Men would later call them," Manwë mused thoughtfully. "Or that is how they shall see it."

 _Waking..._ My eyes widened and I gasped.

I started again when Manwë leaned down and kissed my forehead. I felt a surge of... Cleanliness. Purity. It seemed that everything, all my sorrows, pain and failures from my past life, were rushed away from me, leaving me brand-new. Clean. Pure. Whole.

"Sleep," Manwë murmured, and everything went black.

* * *

 **There a few explanations, and a way forwards. Now she knows how to use her 'gift'.**

 **Oh and here's the Disclaimer: I don't own J.R.R Tolkien, Christopher Paolini, J.K Rowling or George R.R Martin's genius works- otherwise I'd be ten times richer and a million times more confident. So all credits go to THEM.**


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